


Reality in Motion

by notcarlsjr



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Co-workers to lovers, F/M, Friends to Lovers, SHIELD, Slow Burn, i have no idea what else, i'm just jumping on the AO3 train lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2020-01-13 00:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 89
Words: 483,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18458159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notcarlsjr/pseuds/notcarlsjr
Summary: After the attack on New York, Agent Q Proctor is assigned by SHIELD to be Captain America's personal analyst: making sure he's adjusting correctly to the modern world. But when SHIELD is internally attacked by HYDRA, Q's job becomes much more intense than she would've liked...Begins a few months before TWS and goes through the rest of the Marvel movies





	1. two years since

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I posted this originally on FF.net but I know a lot of people post on both FF and AO3 so I figured why not?? So here we are!

It had been two years since the attack on New York City. And in those two years, he felt the reality of what had happened to him sink in. Sure, when he first woke up, he felt lost, but this felt different - worse. Back then, there was still some sense of hope left, that something was still the same. But nothing was.

As horrible as it was, the attack on New York City was the first time he ever felt like he had a purpose. He was fighting for something again, but once that fight was over...the realization returned: he had nothing.

Steve was miserable. This was not the New York he remembered. Everything was new and shiny and bright, too bright. There were people, places, things he had never even heard of before. And the things he did know were either outdated or gone.

Like people. Like Bucky. Like Peggy. All of them were gone and he was the only one left. The feeling of loss grew bigger inside of him each day, reminding him that he was alone.

This is not to say that he didn't try. He did. He really did. He went to movies, went to bars, went to restaurants and coffee shops, but it just didn't feel right. Awkward, was the word. Steve felt awkward. Like he reverted back to his younger self, before the serum made him into  _Captain America._

He knew how to be a soldier. But he couldn't figure out how to be a man in this time. There was a disconnect between who he was and where he was.

As the days went by, he started just going through the motions. Wake up, run, shower, eat, work, repeat. There was no emotion behind anything he did; he had accepted that he was set to live out his days alone and without a purpose. The new world didn't seem as appealing when there was no one to share it with.

Yet all of that began to change when Steve woke to the the shrill ringing of the cell phone Fury had given him. It had been years since Fury had contacted him and Steve figured it was just another mission - which he knew he should be grateful for; it would get his mind off of his intense loneliness. After the attack on New York, the Avengers all went their separate ways, leaving each other until the next crisis.

He reached up from his position on the floor to the nightstand by his bed to grab his phone. The bed in his apartment was too soft, he couldn't ever get comfortable enough to sleep. So he had started sleeping on the floor, feeling like he was back in a time where - everything might not have been better per say, but it felt right. Sitting up, he sat against the legs of the table and flipped the phone open - answering it as he did so.

" _I'm about to make your morning, Rogers."_  Fury's voice came over the line. Steve rubbed his free hand over his eyes, wiping the sleep away.

"How so?" He responded.

" _We have some intel that you might be interested in."_ Steve sighed, not in the mood for Fury's games. He just wanted to know why Fury was calling him so early in the morning, " _One of our analysts was cross referencing your past against our database and found an old friend of yours…"_

Steve sat up straighter at the sound of her name. His heart swelled at the thought of her being alive and well. After the attack on New York, Steve had searched for her, hoping that she was still alive. All his searches turned nothing up, but it seemed that he just didn't search hard enough. He needed to see her again, had to. And once again, after years of not feeling anything, the feeling of hope returned.

"I'm on my way." Steve quickly said before hanging up the phone.

Of course, Steve couldn't just get up and go. Fury had called him back moments after he hung up, mentioning that there was a catch - there was always a catch with Fury and SHIELD. If Steve was coming back to DC, he needed to join SHIELD for real. Work with them to take down threats before they became too big of threats. There were a couple days of negotiating, but Steve agreed to the terms; he convinced himself he was going back for her, not for SHIELD.

It didn't take long for Steve to pack up his things - not like he had much to begin with anyway. There was no reason for him to stay in New York, not when there was something better in DC. SHIELD had set up a plane for him, reminding him that it was because of them that he had found someone from his past. But it didn't matter to him; the small beacon of hope had appeared and slowly, as Steve got closer to DC, it grew bigger and stronger.

Fury met him in the lobby of SHIELD, looking no different than the last time Steve had seen him. They exchanged nods before Fury turned away, indicating that Steve should follow him. As they walked through the lobby, Steve took in his surroundings. He clocked the exits and possible escape routes just in case something were to happen. The people walking around were all SHIELD, either in uniform (agents) or suits (analysts). It was very clear that he was back in SHIELD's territory - one that was still unfamiliar to him. Steve tried keep his face neutral as he stepped into the elevators with Fury.

As the elevator went up, there was silence between him and Fury. He looked out of the windows, realizing how he could see the entire DC Metro area from up in the elevator. Politicians made his stomach roll; they were mostly all about self gain. Looking away from the windows, he turned his gaze to Fury - seeing that he was giving him a once over.

"You look terrible." Fury frankly said, getting an eyebrow raise from Steve. "Didn't like New York too much, eh?" Fury continued, settling back against the railing in the elevator.

"It's not the same as I remember." He simply responded, keeping eye contact with Fury. He nodded, looking away from Steve.

The elevator doors slid open and he let Fury step out before him. As they walked down the hallway, Steve slowed a bit to glance around the adjoining hallways. It was a habit of his - always making sure he was aware of his surroundings.

"Where's Peggy?" He asked out, picking up his pace to fall into step next to Fury. He had figured that Fury would be taking him to Peggy, but he should've known it wasn't going to be as simple as 1, 2, 3.

"She's in a retirement home uptown. Pretty classy place." Fury curtly responded. Steve slowed down a bit, letting Fury get ahead of him. His fists clenched in his jacket pockets as Fury continued to walk away, taking a moment before noticing that Steve was no longer with him. He turned around, eyebrows raising at Steve; he didn't know why he had stopped.

"Was this just a ploy to get me into SHIELD?" Steve asked, feeling his temper flare. If Fury had lied to him about Peggy still being alive, Steve wasn't sure how he would react. But he knew it wouldn't be good.

"No." Fury seriously responded, turning away and starting back down the hall, "As surprising as it may be to you, we actually care about your well being." He glanced back at Steve as they walked down the hallway. Steve let out a scoff, not entirely believing Fury, but continuing after him.

"Clearly, you're not okay." He slowed down, turning to look at Steve head on, "Which is why we brought in some help." Before Steve could ask who or try to deny that he needed help - even though a part of him knew he did, Fury turned away from him. He pushed open his office door, stepping inside.

Steve stepped in after Fury stepped to the side, keeping his hands in the pockets of his jacket. It was then that he saw a young woman get to her feet. His eyes traveled over her, starting at her face and going to her toes. She was dressed like any other SHIELD analyst: in a fitting gray pantsuit and a pressed white blouse with the two top buttons unbuttoned. Half of her dark waves were spilling over her shoulders, the other half pulled back from her face. A bright, welcoming smile broke out across her face at the sight of Steve, but he noticed how it didn't quite reach her eyes - like she was trying to mask her nerves.

There was something familiar about the woman. Steve knew they never met; he would remember her. Yet, she reminded him of someone he had met in his past. He tried to sift through his memories, wanting to figure it out. But before he could put his finger on it, Fury pulled him from his thoughts:

"Rogers, meet Agent Proctor." He gestured to her. Steve's eyes flicked over to him as he spoke before looking back at the young woman.

She took a few quick steps forward, hand extending as she came closer to him. Steve met her halfway, knowing it was the polite thing to do. Their hands met and she shook his hand firmly.

"Captain." She greeted him, nodding once at him, "It's an honor, really." There was a slight twang to her voice - it was almost unnoticeable, like she had worked hard to get rid of it, but it came out on certain words. And it was one that Steve recognized.

"Brooklyn?" He asked, tilting his chin down and raising his eyebrows a bit. She reacted - her smile opening up a bit as a blush began to creep up her neck.

"Uh, yeah, yes." She answered, bobbing her head in a nod. He couldn't help the small smile that broke across his face at her reaction. Her hand suddenly retracted from his and she took a step back, pulling herself up straighter. The same smile returned on her face as she nodded once at him,

"Welcome to SHIELD, Captain."


	2. seventy-two hours before

It had been two years since the attack on New York City. Her reports had been filed and stored away, but her job wasn't even close to being finished. What happened in New York had royally screwed up most of the Avengers and those that stayed on Earth needed to be cleared in case there was ever another attack. For the next two years, she was supposed to be cross referencing their information with the massive SHIELD database - finding any patterns or trends that could help them help the Avengers.

But it wasn't like she was having face to face contact with the Avengers, oh no. It didn't matter how long she had been at SHIELD (since she was nineteen); she mainly worked behind the scenes. Everything she found she sent to her supervisor, who passed them along to the correct people.

So of course, when Q found someone connected to Captain America - she was never comfortable with calling them by their actual names; she didn't know them like that, it was sent to her supervisor. Considering who the person was, he double checked with her to make sure she was sure - she was. It took a lot of digging through records and photo identifications, but it was the correct person. The information was passed along and she didn't think about it again, moving on to the next one her list.

A few weeks later, a file folder slid to a stop on the desk in front of the SHIELD analyst. VAN WINKLE was stamped across the front of the tan file folder in large black capital letters, staring up at her almost intimidatingly. Her brown eyes flicked up from the folder to meet the Director Fury's serious look.

Eyes never leaving Fury's, her brow knitted in confusion as she slowly reached for the folder, picking it off of her director's desk. She kept the folder closed, noticing there was some weight to whatever was inside. She glanced back down to look at the front of the folder again before looking back up at Fury. There was a beat of silence before Q opened her mouth, finally reacting to what he had said,

"I'm sorry, what?"

"What part of you're being transferred don't you understand?" Fury asked back, his tone making it clear that Q had just asked a very stupid question.

"Just the where and when." She replied, raising her eyebrows up. Fury gave her an unamused look before glancing to the folder in Q's hand.

She pulled her chin in and looked back down at the folder, extending her arms slightly to read the text again. Glancing back up at Fury, she gave him a slightly embarrassed smile before opening it up. No matter how close she and him were, she was in uncharted territory and felt herself reverting back to the naive SHIELD recruit she once was. She thumbed through the file folder, looking through the contents as Fury explained,

"After the attack on New York, we found out that Captain America has not been adjusting well to the 21st century." He spoke as he sat back down in his chair, leaning back so that he was in a more relaxed position. Q glanced over the folder at him, her brow furrowed in confusion once more; she didn't totally understand what she had to do with it.

Working at SHIELD had given Q basic access to the world's Avengers, especially after the attack on New York, but all she had was basic information and post op debriefs that were conducted by others, never once working side by side with them or directly with them. The closest she had come was once giving intel to The Black Widow - and even that was a special occasion.

"He is relocating to here in DC and you are being assigned to him as a personal analyst." Fury continued, knowing that even if all of the details weren't smoothed out with Rogers that it was more than likely he would be agreeing to them, "You'll be doing everything from giving him psychological assessments to getting him Chinese takeout." Fury chuckled at the thought of Captain America eating take out. Q wasn't as amused, her mouth opening slightly as she tried to wrap her head around it. She was being assigned to watch over Captain America, Captain. America. The man who had saved the world before she was even born and once more after the fact. Why in the world did he need her?

Fury leaned forward in his chair, his hands folding a top the desk as he seriously looked at Q. Noticing, Q closed the folder, letting her arms drop before crossing her hands in front of her stomach. She waited for what Fury had to say next, making sure she was standing up straight as Fury made eye contact with her,

"This is a very important job, Agent Proctor." Fury seriously said, "You are helping one of SHIELD's, and the world's, greatest assets." His tone suggested that if Q were to screw up, it would be bad news for her.

"Understood, sir." She nodded once, her tone firm and unwavering. She didn't question why she was chosen, figuring she wouldn't get a straightforward answer. She learned very quickly to just take her orders and complete them; asking questions just led her down a path that was not fun. Fury nodded back at her before relaxing back into his seat.

"You have a meeting with Agent Thirteen later this afternoon." He continued. Q's eyebrow twitched in reaction to the name but Fury didn't catch it, turning his chair to the side. "You have seventy-two hours."

It was clear that the conversation was over and Q turned to leave, her heels clicking against the floor as she walked out of Fury's office. Once she was back in the hall, she pressed her fingers against the button for the elevator and let out a breath she wasn't aware she had been holding. For as long as she been at SHIELD, she had always been in the Trend and Pattern department - never once being transferred. Even though Fury tried to make it seem like a big deal, a part of her couldn't help but think that her new position was a demotion.

"Operations Control." She said aloud as she stepped onto the elevator. The doors shut in front of her and a moment later, the elevator started down.

Leaning back against the glass windows, Q relaxed her posture, fingers going to unbutton her navy blazer. She gathered up her dark waves, lifting her hair off of her neck in an effort to cool down as turned her head to the side to look out across the DC Metro area, taking in the scenery. The SHIELD offices were located in the center of DC, with the most important government buildings surrounding it.

The elevator dinged, signaling that Q had arrived at her intended floor. The doors slid open, letting her step off of the elevator and head down the hallway toward her destination. She opened up the doors to ops, stepping into the room full of computers and the agents attached to them. As she wove through the rows of computers, her eyes scanned the room to see if anything interesting was happening. Most were working on day to day activities, keeping tabs on anything that could be a potential threat or looking over past ops with their field agents to pull out intel. It was never a dull day at SHIELD.

Q made her way over to where her fellow SHIELD co-worker, Dawson, was sitting in front of his two screen computer. His shaggy brown hair was tucked behind his ears and his face was scruffy with a five o'clock shadow that had been growing out since the week before. His fingers tapped against the keyboard, eyes scanning the screen as he worked on his project. In an effort to get his attention, Q hopped up on the corner of his desk, tugging down the end of her navy pencil skirt so that she wasn't exposing anything.

"Hungry?" She prompted, tilting her head to the side. Dawson tore his gaze away from his computer screens to quickly look at her with raised eyebrows.

"Depends," His eyes shifted back to his screens, "You buying?" He asked. Q let out a light laugh, shaking her head a bit.

"Sure." She agreed with a roll of her eyes up to the ceiling.

At her answer, Dawson quickly tapped a few keys on his keyboard before his screens showed the login screen. He rolled his chair back so that he could look up at her, "Shall we?" He expectantly asked.

Dawson was the closest thing Q had to a friend in SHIELD (and in her adult life). Both of them had been recruited into SHIELD at the same time and both of them were some of the youngest recruits so of course, they drifted toward each other. Where Q was a Trends and Patterns Analyst, Dawson's focus was in the Cyber Division of SHIELD, sometimes cross pollinating with the Weapons Division to give them insight on how the tech would work.

He had worked on the New York attack, working his tech magic to control the traffic cameras and electric grids so that SHIELD had eyes everywhere. It kinda went to his head and he liked to think he was hot shit. Q never failed to remind him that he wasn't.

Throughout their years together, they became closer and both agreed it was nice to have someone to rant to about the going ons in SHIELD. So of course, Q wasted no time complaining about her transfer.

As the two of them sat outside on a bench in the small town square area a few blocks away from SHIELD, she repeated the conversation she had with Fury to Dawson. The v in Dawson's brow grew deeper as Q finished up her story.

"So you're basically like a superhero's babysitter." He commented as Q sipped her soda. Q gave him an unamused look, placing her soda down on the spot next to her.

"I prefer the term glorified assistant." She tried to make it sound more fancy, getting a chuckle from Dawson.

"Hey, whatever, at least it gets you out of the Batcave." He referred to where Q's cubicle was located - on the lower floors of SHIELD with no windows in sight. The only time she really saw the sun was when her and Dawson took their lunches.

"True." Q raised her eyebrows, looking away from Dawson. She rested her hands flat on the bench, straightening her back out and feeling it crack a bit.

Half of her sandwich was resting on her lap and Q continued to drink her soda as a cool, gentle wind blew through that made her temporarily forget that it was summer time in DC. Dawson took a bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully for a moment. He looked down at the file folder that was in between her and him, flipping it open as a drop of mustard fell out of his sandwich and onto the page.

"Oh shit." Dawson mumbled, lifting the sandwich up and away from the file. Q glanced down to see that the mustard had landed right on Captain America's face, "Sorry." Dawson lamely said, obviously not sorry at all. Q shook her head at him, not even fazed by his clumsiness.

Dawson placed his sandwich down to avoid any more stains and then picked up the file folder. He thumbed through it, looking over Q's assignment and what it truly entailed. Another picture came up halfway through the file, getting him to look up at Q,

"You're working with Thirteen?" Dawson asked out. Q nonchalantly raised her eyebrows and nodded a bit. Letting out a low whistle, Dawson returned his attention back to Agent Thirteen's profile. "Damn, Q, this seems intense."

"Only because it's Captain America." She sighed out, taking the folder back from Dawson. "It's going to be just as boring as it would be with a regular mark."

"Honestly, I think it's a match made in heaven." Dawson made a face and shrugged as he took another bite of his sandwich, getting a look from her, "Yeah, I mean, I've always said you're actually a ninety year old woman." He spoke with his mouth full, gesturing to Q. She gave him an eye roll back.

"Just cause I like crosswords and going to bed early, does not mean I'm old." She shot back. Dawson barked out a laugh, shaking his head as he looked at his sandwich for a moment before looking back at her.

"You took a date out to the Early Bird Special at The Vig." He pointed out, clenching his teeth together. Q gave him a pursed lip look, obviously not amused by his reminder. It happened once and it was only because she really didn't care about the guy.

"Whatever." She waved her hand at him. Dawson laughed to himself, pleased that he had gotten a reaction out of her. The Early Bird Special Date was one of his favorite stories and at least once a month, he almost always found a way to bring it up again.

"How's your secret project coming along?" Q changed the subject, picking up her soda once more. Dawson raised his eyebrows and took in a breath.

His work on Project Insight was extremely classified and he was under strict orders from Fury to not talk about it with anyone. And that included Q. It had been two years since the project started and every time Q asked about it, he gave her the same answer:

"Uh, fine." Dawson shrugged noncommittally. "Lot of work, but…" He shrugged again, not wanting to give too much away. He didn't need Fury to unleash his fury on him (pun not intended) Luckily, Q understood, nodding as she sipped at her soda - sometimes there were just certain things they couldn't talk about. Such was life at SHIELD.

The two sat in a comfortable silence as they finished up their lunches. The square was still pretty busy, even though the lunch hour was coming to a close. People hurried around in their suits and ties, SHIELD agents and politicians alike. Q watched as they moved, her brain already switching back into work mode as she picked up certain patterns of the square patrons - how they walked, ate, talked...

"Ready to get back to the exciting life of government counterintelligence?" Dawson asked, pulling her attention back to him. He crumpled up his sandwich bag as he stood up, Q following suit. She brushed the crumbs off of her shirt, making sure there were no stains on her shirt.

As the two walked back to the SHIELD offices, Dawson tried to shoot his trash into the trash can, completely missing the trash can. He let out a defeated sigh before walking over to scoop up the crumpled up bag and dunking it in the can. Q dropped her trash in after Dawson stepped away, then fell into step next to them as they started back to SHIELD.

"What's the rest of your day look like?" Dawson asked, making conversation as they walked, "When's Cap showing up?"

"Less than seventy two hours." Q replied, "I have a meeting with Agent Thirteen in a few." She glanced at her watch before shaking her arm out to let the arm of her blazer fall back into place. Dawson quickly raised his eyebrows at her,

"Tell her I said hi." Q raised her eyebrows at Dawson's comment, but didn't respond.

Swiping their ID cards, Dawson and Q walked back into the building. They shared an elevator, Dawson getting off at ops while Q continued up to where she was supposed to meet Agent Thirteen. The rooms were different than the ones used for debriefs, almost like a mini operation station. They let teams go over every detail of the operation before they went out into the field. Q had never been in one of those rooms; she had never been on any type of field mission before.

Each room had a wall of windows facing the hallway so that Q could see who was in each room as she walked past. Obviously they were all fitted with blinds that could be closed if necessary - and some were. Agent Thirteen was already in the smaller conference room, talking with another agent. At her entrance, Agent Thirteen finished up her conversation with the other agent. He stepped past her, giving Q a nod in greeting before exiting the conference room.

Agent Thirteen turned to look at Q, hands on her hips in what Q would consider was a power stance. Her blonde curls resting gently atop her shoulders and her dark brown eyes were as warm as the smile she gave Q. Q returned the smile before looking around the room for a moment. Her and Agent Thirteen were friendly - always saying hello in passing or having casual conversation when they were at the bathroom sinks, but the women were nothing more than work acquaintances.

"Proctor." Agent Thirteen greeted her with a nod.

"Carter." Q nodded back. She had to admit, it was a little daunting to be paired with Agent Thirteen, aka Sharon Carter. Her aunt was the great Peggy Carter, founder of SHIELD. And even though Sharon always tried to make it clear that she shouldn't be treated differently, mostly everyone did. They respected her.

Sharon gestured for Q to take a seat in one of the empty chairs and Q followed the motion, pulling out one of the chairs and settling in. She fixed her posture so that she was sitting up a bit straighter, folding her arms atop the table - the file folder resting in front of her. Sharon sat down on the other side of the table, her own matching file folder in front of her.

"So you're to blame for getting Captain America back to SHIELD." Sharon commented. Q looked up from where she had been staring at Sharon's file folder. She noticed that the corner of Sharon's mouth was tugged up in a semi amused smile - clearly it was a small joke.

"Oh, yeah, well, I think it was more your aunt than me." Q made a face, waving her hands in the air. Sharon laughed lightly, eyebrows raising at Q's response.

"I guess that's true." She gave Q a smile, "They have a lot of history together." Q wasn't quite sure how to respond to that; she had heard stories of Peggy and Captain America, but felt that it wasn't appropriate work talk, so she settled for a nod.

"Shall we get started?" Sharon asked, moving on. She looked at Q expectantly and once again, Q nodded in response.

Usually - from her small amount of experience, recon could take up to a few weeks before getting to operations and then getting greenlit, but her and Sharon only had a few days to prepare. So for the next seventy two hours, Q found herself working alongside Sharon and a rotating crop of agents all lending their skills. She learned that Sharon was her muscle, protecting both her and Captain America under the direction of Fury.

With the help of Dawson, they set up Sharon's cover: a nurse named Kate who worked at Washington Memorial. She would move in next to Captain America a few days after Q got him settled. Q wouldn't have to relocate to his building considering she already lived a few blocks down from the building. But she did have to work hard and long to get Captain America's apartment ready to live in: painting, decorating, making it feel like home. She spent hours scouring antique stores for things that would be nice reminders of the past, mixing the pieces in with more modern furniture. She would have to go shopping with him again once he arrived in DC. It was advised that SHIELD set up cameras in the apartment, but Q shot that down; that's why they transferred her - to keep an eye on him.

There was a schedule set up that broadly outlined each month that Q would spend with Captain America - daily check ins with him, end of month meetings with Fury to assess and adjust if needed, etc. etc. Q made up her own personal calendar with different things she wanted to accomplish with Captain America: buy him food, personalize his apartment, visit Peggy, introduce him to new technologies...whatever she felt was a necessary part of the modern world and pertinent to his readjustment, was added to the calendar. She was given a document with all the things she needed to look for and test for: stress levels, mental and emotional stability, comfortability, and much more. Everything that Q could possibly need or want was given to her and it made her nervous at how much responsibility she had. It was a lot of pressure.

Once the seventy two hours were up, Q returned back to Fury's office. She made sure to put on her best office look: a grey pantsuit with small kitten heels. Her hair was pulled back from her face in her usual half up-half down 'do and she made sure to actually wear a bit of makeup. She wanted to make a good first impression on him.

At the sound of the door opening, she got to her feet, clasping her hands in front of her. Fury walked in first, looking as serious as he always did. Behind him was none other than Captain America himself.

She wasn't sure what she was expecting - sure she had seen photos and footage of him, but that was when he was Captain America. When he was decked out in his uniform, fighting side by side with his comrades and fellow Avengers. But the man standing in front of her looked...completely average. Like any other man on the street.

He was taller than she would've expected him to be. A brown leather jacket fit snug around his broad shoulders, covering the pressed plaid button up shirt that was tucked into a pair of dark wash jeans. His dirty blonde hair had what she liked to consider was a signature superhero swoop to it, sort of offsetting the serious look on his face. Finally, she made eye contact with him, noticing how he was looking at her, giving her the same once over she was giving him. She was a bit thrown off not just at how blue his eyes looked, but how tired they looked. Not tired like he had been on a long flight, but like he had been fighting a war inside of himself.

"Rogers, meet Agent Proctor." Fury gestured to her. At Fury's introduction, Captain American's eyes flicked away from where they had been on her, and she had to force herself from fidgeting with the sleeve of her blazer, trying to fix whatever was out of place.

Then his gaze returned to her and Q felt that she needed to properly introduce herself. Give the man a handshake and show that she had some manners. She took a few quick steps forward, hand extending as she came closer to him. As she got closer, her brain whirled as she tried to think of the right way to address him: Steve, Mr. Rogers, Captain Rogers, Captain America….but when his hand met hers, she just went on instinct.

"Captain." She greeted him, making sure the welcoming smile was still intact as she nodded once at him - his hand firmly gripped hers, "It's an honor, really." At her greeting, his chin tilted forward, eyebrows raising almost as if he didn't expect to hear something she said,

"Brooklyn?" He asked. Q felt her jaw open slightly at the question, not even realizing that she still had her accent; she had spent years trying to fix it. She figured people would take her more seriously if she sounded proper. The back of her neck started to heat up and Q could feel her cheeks beginning to flush.

"Uh, yeah, yes." She answered, quickly correcting and composing herself. She ignored the small amused smile on his face.

In an effort to keep some semblance of professionalism, she took her hand out of his grasp and stepped away. Pulling herself up straighter, she plastered her warmest smile on her face, making eye contact with him before nodding once,

"Welcome to SHIELD, Captain."


	3. initial assessment

Her heels clicked against the marble floors with every step she took. He noticed that for each one of his steps, she had to take two to keep an even pace with him. With the small kitten heels, she came up to right above his shoulder, but even without the heels, he knew that they were about the same height - a two inch difference or so.

They had left Fury's office without the Director, Agent Proctor leading him to a different room. Along the way, she had been passing him over file folder after file folder, explaining what each one was: a basic form he needed to fill out to update his health information, an agreement he needed to sign that stated he was part of SHIELD officially now - one that he would be held accountable to, a hefty packet of information about what was going on in DC and another one that she was in the process of explaining.

It wasn't that he was tuning her out - he just was focused on the overwhelming amount of information she was giving him in a short amount of time. She was coming off as one that was eager to get started while all Steve wanted was to visit Peggy and make sure she was okay. He never wanted to get involved with SHIELD, but he knew a compromise always left both parties feeling unsatisfied.

"After you." He looked up from the last file folder, noticing they had stopped walking and were now standing in front of a smaller office. He glanced over to see that Agent Proctor was holding open the door for him with that warm smile still on her face. He gave her a short nod and stepped into the office but wasn't sure if he was supposed to sit in one of the two chairs that were sitting across from each other.

"Please, take a seat." She gestured to the chairs, letting him make the decision. He nodded at her before choosing the one that faced the door - only because that way he could see if someone was coming in.

He sat on the edge of the chair, setting the stack of files on the small coffee table that separated the two of them. Then he planted his elbows against his thighs and clasped his hands together, waiting for her to take a seat in the other chair. She perched herself on the chair opposite of him, ankles crossing as she placed the yellow notepad and blue pen against her thighs.

"Usually we'll be doing these sort of things in your apartment," Agent Proctor started, keeping her posture straight, "But since this is our first one, I wanted it to be a little more official." She gave him a quick grin before uncapping her pen. He felt his brow furrow, not understanding what she was getting at,

"What are these sort of things?" He questioned, getting her to look up at him. Her face broke out into a semi embarrassed smile as she let out what seemed to be a light, matching laugh.

"Sorry, uh, guess I should've explained that better." She talked with her hands, moving them up to tuck her hair behind her ear - even though it was still in the half up, half down 'do. "Our talks. One in the morning and one at night, then one every week back here with Fury." She explained, "It's all outlined in your packet." His eyes followed to where her hand was gesturing to the pile of file folders, "This is just your initial assessment. Something to use as a base and to refer back to as we continue to make sure progress is being made."

"What sort of progress?"

"Good progress, is the goal." She flashed him a smile, not giving him any more of an explanation, "Shall we?" Her eyebrows rose expectantly.

"I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to be telling you." He sat back in his chair, letting his hands slide over his thighs as he let out a breath, "But sure."

"Just whatever's on your mind." She motioned with the pen, "I have some specific questions that you'll need to answer, but other than that, it's all you." Steve nodded, which she took as his answer, "Now, let's start with the simple stuff. What's your full name?"

"Steven Grant Rogers." He answered, watching as her hand moved across the yellow notepad. His foot began to bounce in anticipation of the next question; he could feel his nerves taking over and wanted nothing more than to push out of his chair and run out of the room. Surely now that he was in the right city, he could find Peggy on his own. He didn't need their help.

"Birthdate and birthplace."

"July 4th, 1918. Brooklyn, New York." The corner of her mouth twitched as she suppressed a grin. He wondered what she found funny: was it his birthday or the fact that they were from the same area? Either way, she kept the grin down and away, the appearance of professionalism very clear in her body language.

"Parents?" Her tone didn't give away that moments before she thought of something funny. It was flat and serious, like this was routine for her. There was no trace of the slight Brooklyn twang that he had heard earlier. Instead, she sounded like every other SHIELD agent and analyst he had come in contact with (not that there were that many).

"Sarah and Joseph Rogers."

"And how did they die?"

"My father died in World War One and my mother died of tuberculosis." He couldn't help but wonder why she was asking him these questions and writing down his answers; she had to have already known all of this. It had to be in his file. SHIELD didn't seem like the type of organization to not know every detail about all of their assets. But still, she continued with her questions,

"Any other family members or friends?"

"No." His answer was short and to the point. He didn't want to linger on his family and friends. It just reminded him of what was gone - what he had lost. His tone must've caught her attention because she looked up from where she had been writing.

"Is that something you want to talk about?" She asked, looking expectant. Steve made eye contact with her, tilting his head to the side before he answered her question,

"I don't like talking about my past."

"But if we don't talk about the past, how can we learn from it?" Agent Proctor poised her question, eyes still glued to his. He sighed, looking away from her intense eye contact.

"No offense, but we just met." He turned his head back to look at her, "So you can understand why I'm a little hesitant to talk about all the people I've lost." There was no reason she needed to know everything. He didn't know how deep in SHIELD's pocket she was. He was beginning to catch on to the fact that everything would be reported back to Fury. Which meant Fury would know things that he didn't necessarily want him to know. At his answer, she pursed her lips and nodded, her head ducking back down to make a note on her yellow notepad.

"Tell me how you were feeling when you woke up." She prompted, changing the subject. He knew she was referring back to when he woke up in a SHIELD facility, then promptly busted out of wherever they were holding him and ran out into the new world. That day was forever burned into his memory - right next to the day the super soldier serum was injected into him.

When he woke up, he caught on pretty quickly to the fact that times had changed - from the the baseball game playing on the radio that he and Bucky had gone to, to the fake SSR officer with her hair in curls that were too loose. Of course, he panicked and ran. He had no idea what was going on but wasn't about to stick around to find out. He had to get someone safe, somewhere he knew no one would know about.

Then when he got out of the facility, he didn't stop because he was surrounded by black cars, but because how different the world was. He knew that it was New York City; he recognized the buildings, but it wasn't the New York City he remembered. The bright lights of the city made his eyes hurt, the air seemed thicker and the sudden realization that the world had moved on without him slowly began to crush him like a giant weight.

"Overwhelmed." Steve settled on a one word answer, deciding not to go into detail about it. His answer didn't satisfy Agent Proctor, who looked back up from her notepad as her hand continued to move across the page,

"Care to elaborate on that?"

"Not really." He sighed out. It wasn't the right answer, he could tell; she recrossed her ankles and set her arms over the notepad. Her posture was still as straight as it was when they began, but she fixed him with a serious look.

"Captain, my job here is to help you adjust to this time. And I can't very well do that if you aren't willing to share what's going on inside that head of yours." She held eye contact with him and he wanted to look away as her eyes bore into his. Her eye contact was impressive but also intimidating. The longer he held eye contact with her, the more uncomfortable he became. He knew it was a way to show dominance and he had to admit that it was working, "Do you understand that?"

"Yes." He responded, getting her face to break out into a wide, relieved smile.

"Great." She picked up her pen once more, smile disappearing as quickly as it appeared, "Now, when you woke up, you said you felt overwhelmed. Continue with that, please."

For the next hour and a half, Steve answered all of Agent Proctor's questions, watching as her hand moved across the page and recorded all of his responses. They discussed how he felt when he woke up, what it was like fighting with the Avengers in New York, the side effects of the fight and why he ended up in DC. Never once did the conversation stray to the people he lost, what he did in the past or anything that could make the conversation stop. Sure there were a few pauses, but he always ended up answering, even if it was just one word answers. He hadn't talked this much with anyone since...well he couldn't remember the last time he had. Agent Proctor barely said anything: prompting him here and there to expand on what he meant, but mostly she just listened and took notes.

While he talked, he felt himself relaxing into the chair. His shoulders went back into the cushion, his arms resting on the armrest while his foot stopped tapping in a constant rhythm. It felt sort of good to be finally talking about some of the stuff that had plagued his mind since New York. They were only skimming the surface, but still, like she had said - progress was being made. Yet, he noticed the more he relaxed, the less she did - keeping herself perched on the edge of the seat cushion and her voice as even and serious as it was when they began.

As he finished answering her last question, Steve watched her jot down something before flipping the used pages over, write something on the top and then circle it. She looked up at him with a warm smile, capping her pen as she uncrossed her ankles,

"Wasn't so terrible, was it?" She asked.

"Definitely been through worse." He agreed with a nod.

"Well, looks like we have something to talk about tomorrow." She said as she got to her feet. A beat too late, he realized she was trying to make a joke to lighten the mood.

Her notepad went under her arm as she tugged down the ends her blazer, straightening it out. Steve quickly got to his feet, feeling his muscles adjust; he had been sitting a lot longer than he realized. He reached down to grab the stack of papers that were left untouched during the assessment, holding them in both hands.

She held the door open for him once more, letting him step out into the hall before she did. He waited a few steps in front of her, watching as she turned down the hallway and let the door shut behind her. Falling into step next to her, he silently wondered where they were going next. Since their conversation had ended, he found his thoughts drifting back to Peggy. He still hadn't seen her and he had been a SHIELD long enough for a day.

The elevator doors opened for them and he stepped inside after her. He heard her clearly say, "Medical." Responding to Agent Proctor's command, the elevator started down, leaving the two in a silence. Steve wasn't sure what to say; of course he had questions - his first being why they were going to medical, but more were about what had gone in on the room. He wanted to know what she had planned to do with the notes she had taken.

Trying to get a glance at the notepad, he could only see a little bit of her all capital letter handwriting before she moved her arm to press the notepad to her chest. His eyes flicked up to meet hers and he noticed the raised eyebrows look she was giving him.

"Sorry." He coughed out, head ducking down as he looked away from him. He was caught and there was no use trying to hide it, "Just wanted to know what you wrote."

"Notes on our session." She simply responded, "So that I can learn how to help you better."

"I'm fine, really." He lifted his head to look at her, "This is just a waste of your time." She didn't respond verbally, but gave him a nod while she looked seemingly unconvinced.

The elevator doors reopened and he followed her out into another hall. He glanced both ways before continuing behind her. She pushed open an all white door that led to what seemed to be a examination room. It smelled of antiseptic and was brightly lit with fluorescent ceiling lights. There was a doctor and another analyst standing off to the side. They greeted him with respectful nods before the doctor stepped forward, asking him to change into the gown that was on the examination table.

"I'll be outside." Agent Proctor took that as her cue to leave, nodding at the group before turning and stepping back out into the hall. And even though he had only known her for a little over two hours - Steve wished she had stayed in the room.

The doctor did the same basic examination they did on him after he woke up. He was weighed, measured and his blood pressure was taken before the doctor took some blood. Then came the eyes, ears and throat tests. The whole examination reminded him of each time he went through the tests in order to get drafted. In fact, it seemed that his life could be categorized by different doctors' offices: the ones when he was trying to get drafted, the ones after the super soldier serum had been injected (though those felt more like labs), and the ones after he had woken up.

It was still the same; he was poked and prodded. All that changed was the how. Back then, he could barely make the weight on the scale move, but now, thanks to serum, it was all the way on the other side. When they took his blood before he became Captain America, he had almost passed out - now they took more and more vials just in case they ever wanted to create another super soldier. And before the serum, there was a long list of problems with his body, but now there wasn't anything wrong with him. Well, physically at least.

After the doctor did a general overview, Steve was stuck into a metal tube so the doctor could perform an MRI on him to monitor brain activity. The constant banging made him want to bust out of there; it was constant and he couldn't find a way to ignore it. Eventually, it stopped, but the noise made his head throb for a few minutes after the fact.

When all the tests had been run, the results recorded and filed away, he redressed himself and had one less file folder to hold. He stepped out of the room and into the hall, seeing that Agent Proctor was leaning against the wall, scribbling down something in the margins of her notepad. At his exit, she looked up from her notepad and pushed off the wall, straightening up. A warm smile graced her features as she pressed her notepad to her chest,

"All set?" His nod was a good enough answer for her because she was walking past him, indicating that he should follow. He had been doing a lot of that - following her.

The pair got back into the elevator and she clearly stated their next destination, "Trends and Patterns." The elevator responded and he felt the gentle pull as they started going down.

"I just need to pick up my things and then we'll get going." She simply explained, "Do you have any questions so far?" Her eyebrows raised expectantly, like she knew he had questions - and he had plenty, but really his mind was only on one thing,

"When can I see Peggy?" He asked. She gave him an understanding smile and nodded once,

"Soon." She promised as the elevator dinged and the doors opened. Steve followed her out into the hall, letting her lead him to her office. He realized how much darker it had gotten since their time upstairs; the only light source were some more of those horrible fluorescent lights. There was no sign of windows or any source of natural light.

Swiping her ID, Agent Proctor stepped into her small office and he took a moment to look around - not stepping inside for fear of making it too crowded. She had a very minimalistic desk with a two screen computer taking up most of the space. He noticed there were no pictures on her desk, just a rather large cup with the words Ralph's Burgers stamped on the front, a cube that had different solid color sides made up of smaller squares and a plant that looked well past its expiration date.

Across from the desk, there were two chairs on either side, while the walls were taken over with a whiteboard calendar, and file cabinets in almost every other open wall space. His gaze made it back over to where she was tugging her messenger bag over her shoulder, adjusting it so it lay flat across her chest. She flipped her waves over her shoulders and grabbed the massive cup, shaking it so that both of them could hear the ice moving around inside. Meeting his gaze, she gave him a small smile before nodding once,

"Let's go." She walked past him and once more Steve found himself following behind her, back to the elevators.

"Garage." The elevator responded to her request, pulling them down to their destination.

The pair were quiet as the elevator went down a few floors. His thoughts drifted back to when he first found out about SHIELD. How he learned that Peggy had been one of the creators of the secret government division. Not only did he agree to join SHIELD so that he could see Peggy, but also because of her involvement in starting SHIELD. He figured there must be something good about the division since she had a hand in starting it.

Once the doors opened, he found himself yet again following after Agent Proctor as she walked through the parking garage. He heard the jingle of her keys as she took them out of the side pocket of her messenger bag. There was a corresponding beep as she pressed her finger against one of the buttons on her keychain.

The two walked over to where her mid-sized Honda was parked - Steve recognized the logo from the various commercials he had seen on television. She went around the passenger side, opening up the door for him to get in, which he did. But as she walked around the front, he leaned over and opened the driver's side door for her.

"Thanks." She gratefully said as she slid into her seat. He nodded once at her, watching as she put her messenger back in the back seat before pulling the strap around her chest and buckling herself in. He followed the motion, letting the buckle click into the lock - he was still getting used to how seatbelts were mandatory.

Starting up the car, Agent Proctor backed out of her spot and pulled out in the lane dedicated to exiting cars. She followed all the signs and soon the gates of the garage were opening up, letting the bright sunlight stream through as she pulled out onto the overpass. As the car went across the overpass, he watched in the rearview mirror as SHIELD got further and further away and he felt his muscles start to relax.

While she drove, Steve looked out the window at the passing sights. He recognized some of the memorials, remembering them from the time he spent in DC when he went on tour to sell bonds across America. But some of them looked newer, nicer and he wondered what the stories behind them were.

DC was a lot cleaner than New York was and for some reason it felt brighter too. There wasn't a fogginess to it that New York had - what with all the steam rising from the subway. It still had that same hustle and bustle that New York had, but instead of businessmen it was politicians. He hated politicians.

Agent Proctor kept quiet as she drove them through the city. He was grateful for that; he didn't feel like talking much more than he already had. Truth be told, he was still trying to figure out how he felt about her. He wanted to trust her - especially since she was from Brooklyn and he knew that they stuck together, but she was associated with SHIELD. A place he certainly didn't trust. She seemed nice enough though and certainly had his best interests at heart, what with taking time out of her day to talk to him and ask him questions, even if it was just part of her job. He figured it would just take time, like anything else in his life.

"Where are we going?" He asked out as the scenery turned from the DC Metro area to more elegant and quaint looking buildings. He tore his gaze away from the window to look over at her, seeing that it looked like she was trying to fight a smile.

"Thought you'd like to see an old friend." She responded as she pulled the car off to the side, parking it up against the curb. She turned her head to look past him and he followed her gaze, seeing that they had come upon a nice looking building with vines growing up the exposed brick. There was a large gate in front of the steps leading up to the entrance with a sign next to it that proclaimed it was the Sunrise Retirement Home.

Pushing open his door, he slowly stepped out of the car, looking up at the building. Agent Proctor came around the front, sticking her hands into the shallow pockets of her blazer. He shut the passenger side door and looked back at her, seeing that there was a small smile on her face. She motioned with her head, indicating that they should go in.

The gate opened with ease as he held it for her to step through. He followed behind, shutting the gate firmly before falling into step with her. They walked up the stairs and she held the door for him, letting him step into the small lobby area.

As Agent Proctor went to the front desk, he stayed where he was, looking around at where they were. Elderly men and women were all around: some in one, large open room talking and playing cards, while others were in the smaller room reading or knitting. He heard soft music all around them, but otherwise it was a rather quiet setting.

"Captain." His attention returned to where Agent Proctor was standing by the front desk, "If you'll follow me…" She trailed off, nodding her head to where there was a rather old looking elevator. He stepped in after her, watching as she pressed the button and the number four lighting up in response.

"I have to warn you, Captain." She turned to him as the elevator started its journey up, "Agent Carter may have difficulty remembering who you are, what happened, what year it is - " She didn't need to continue; he understood what she was getting at.

"She has Alzheimer's." He filled in the blank with a deep sigh, looking down at his feet.

Back in his day, he knew of the disease; a few of his classmates' grandparents had fallen ill to it. He had heard stories of what had happened to people diagnosed with it. They weren't themselves, couldn't remember certain events or people and soon their brains deteriorated so much that they couldn't remember anything. It saddened him that it was still around so many years later; all of the advances in medicine and still there was no cure. And it saddened him even more so that it had taken over Peggy. Peggy, who was once the brightest person he had ever known.

"Yes." Her tone took on one of sympathy. There was a beat of silence before she spoke again, "But the nurse downstairs told me she was having a good day today so…" She trailed off, sounding hopeful, but like she wasn't really sure how to end her sentence. No matter how she did the fact remained the same: Peggy probably wouldn't know who he was.

His heart sank at the idea that Peggy wouldn't remember him. Somehow it was worse than her being gone entirely. Because at least then there wouldn't be any hope left. When Fury called him about Peggy being alive, the hope returned - stronger than it ever was before. Then, at Agent Proctor's words, he felt that bright, burning hope fade away.

But that didn't mean he didn't want to see her. He did - he needed to. She was the one reason that had kept him following around Agent Proctor, talking to her, enduring those doctors once more. And he was so close. He wasn't about to let her slip through his fingers again.

So when the elevator doors opened, he followed Agent Proctor down the hallway to the corner room. She politely knocked, waited for a moment and then pushed open the door. She stepped in first, introducing herself to the older woman who was propped up on the bed, surrounded by pillows. But Steve didn't pay attention, her voice becoming muffled background noise as his eyes landed on Peggy.

She had aged gracefully over the last century. Her dark curls had turned white, her skin gently sagging under the weight of all she had done, the life she had lived finally catching up with her, but her eyes still remained as determined and bright as they were when he knew her.

And suddenly, it was like he was transported back in time - to their very first meeting when he was just a scrawny boy trying his best. He remembered every detail about it: what she was wearing, what she said, where she went. Once the first memory started, the rest quickly came after, flicking by like a movie inside of his head: the cab ride, right before the serum injection, after the injection, the 107th camp, when she helped him get over enemy lines to where Bucky and the rest of the Howling Commandos were trapped, the bunker...their first and last kiss.

"Steve? Is that you?" Peggy's voice pulled him from his thoughts. He blinked, feeling a relieved smile come across his features. She remembered him. The hope returned, this time completely engulfing him. He had someone, he wasn't alone anymore.

He stepped around the bed, going to the side where she was propped up. Her eyes followed his movements as a genuinely happy smile broke out across her face. It was the same smile she had given him plenty of times before - oh how he had missed that smile.

"Oh, Steve!" She reached for his hand. He let her hand grasp his, feeling how cold and papery her skin was. "You came back."

"Of course I did." He gave her a warm smile, settling into the chair by her bed so that they were eye to eye, "I couldn't leave my best girl."


	4. a lot for day one

Lightly knocking on the door, she paused for a moment before gently pushing it open. The room she was faced with was filled with light and had simple furniture placed around. Ignoring the details, she stepped forward into the room, over to the bed where the one and only Peggy Carter was resting.

During her time at SHIELD, she had heard plenty of stories about one of the founders of the extra-governmental military counter-terrorism and intelligence agency. After Steve's - Captain America's, no - Captain Rogers' sacrifice during World War II, the SSR was reformed as the scientific division of SHIELD which continued to work on researching the advanced weapons captured from HYDRA. Agent Carter was at the helm of this agency, doing whatever was necessary to get the job done.

When Q was recruited into SHIELD, there was a video shown of Peggy Carter discussing the history of SHIELD. It was meant to inform and explain what the agency did for the greater good. At the time, Q might've not cared about the video or SHIELD or anything like that (still feeling the burn of what had happened to land her in the recruit class) but over time, she found herself reading everything she could on Agent Carter. Including the files detailing her relationship with Captain Rogers.

At her entrance, Peggy looked over and made eye contact with her. In response, she let a warm smile come over her features - trying not to look intimidating; Peggy had no idea who she was. Not because of the Alzheimer's but just because the two had never met.

"Agent Carter, my name is Agent Proctor." Q kept her voice soft as she stepped up to the bed. She watched as the older woman tried to figure out if she knew her, "I work at SHIELD." At the name, the v in Peggy's brow relaxed and she lifted her chin slightly. It was an obvious reaction to the name of the division, wanting to show that she was still The Peggy Carter, which she would always be to Q.

"A friend of yours wanted to say hello." Q continued. She looked over her shoulder to see Captain Rogers still standing by the door. His hands were in his pockets as he kept his eyes on Peggy. There was still that tension in his shoulders that seemed to dissipate as they left SHIELD, but returned once they got into the elevator of the nursing home. He looked nervous - not like that he didn't want to be in the room, but at the idea that Peggy might not remember him.

Wanting the older woman to see who was behind her, Q stepped to the side and straightened up a bit. She kept her eyes on Peggy as Captain Rogers came into view. Part of her was just as nervous as he was that Peggy wouldn't remember him, that she would have to do more damage control than she was prepared for. But at the sight of him, her eyes lit up and her face broke out into a warm smile.

"Steve? Is that you?" Her voice shook slightly at her questions, almost like she was worried that the answers weren't going to be what she wanted. Q looked to Captain Rogers, noting the relieved smile that came across his features. His entire disposition had changed at those four words. His eyes brightened, his shoulders relaxed as did his posture - just slightly. A small weight was lifted from her shoulders at how well the reunion was beginning.

Stepping back, she let Captain Rogers walk past her. He crossed the room, going over to the other side of the bed. Her eyes followed him as he moved, almost like he would disappear if she took her eyes off of him. The small smile grew into one of genuine happiness and she reached out to him, greeting him once more. He tenderly held her hand, almost reverently and in a way that made Q start to feel like she was intruding on a very personal moment.

"You came back." Her voice was whispery and soft, amazed at who was sitting in front of her.

"Of course I did." He gave her a warm smile, settling into the chair by her bed so that they were eye to eye, "I couldn't leave my best girl." Peggy's face brightened at his comment and Q figured it must've been something just the two of them knew about. An inside joke from a past time.

All of a sudden, Q became acutely aware of just how creepy she was being. She was standing off to the side, watching as two old almost lovers reunited after almost seventy years. It didn't seem like either of them remembered she was in the room, but she felt the back of her neck heat up. She needed to leave.

"I'll leave you two alone for a moment." She spoke up, feeling like she had just broken the spell. Captain Rogers looked over to her, giving her a simple nod before his gaze returned back to Peggy.

Moving backwards, the door was hard against Q's back. She turned, trying to quietly exit the room. The door clicked shut behind her and she stepped towards the elevator. She had no reason to stick around and listen in on their conversation. It was practically mandatory that Captain Rogers tell her what they discussed and how it made him feel. It would probably take a little bit of probing to get him to open up, but she would find out. It was her job to.

No, she wasn't a therapist or a doctor - she had barely graduated high school. But she was good at reading people. Picking up on their traits or habits that were brought on by stress or depression or anger or other emotions. She had learned how to from her father. She was half self taught in a lot of things - mostly because she grew bored and annoyed when she wasn't automatically good at something. So she moved on. Other skills had come during her time as a SHIELD recruit: gathering intel, conducting post-ops, analyzing marks and information, etc. Nothing ever physical though, she was never out on an op, in the field. She was classically trained as an analyst rather than an agent. This felt more like a crossbreeding of analyst and agent work. Something that she was unfamiliar with.

Back downstairs, she settled herself at one of the empty tables. It was by the hallway, giving her a clear view of the lobby. She set her phone a top the table, marking the time and deciding to let Captain Rogers be alone with Peggy for an hour at most. It was the least she could do.

As a way to keep herself busy, she dumped out the puzzle that was resting in the center of the table. The front showed that the puzzle would create a landscape of some mountain range with a castle nestled in the middle. She started to flip over the pieces so that the colors were facing up. Then she picked out the edge pieces, sliding them over to create a small pile.

So far, her first day with Stev - Captain Amer - Captain Rogers, had been somewhat successful. It was clear that he wasn't just going to open up immediately and start spilling all of his deep, dark secrets. And it was completely understandable. She would've done the same thing. He didn't trust her. Why would he? She had yet to give him a reason to. It didn't matter where she was from or what she did; she was a part of something that he wasn't too fond of, aka SHIELD. She would just have to go slow and earn his trust in due time.

During their time spent together, she had come to learn that Captain Rogers was very much aware of what was going on and liked to be in the know. She had caught him double checking every hallway, room and elevator they had been in. It was most likely something that had been brought on from the war and what had happened in New York - always being aware of his surroundings.

Their conversation proved what she had thought prior - he was depressed. Maybe he wasn't aware of it, but the way he talked about things and refused to talk about other things made her come to the conclusion that the amount of time he had spent alone after New York had had a very negative affect on him. He was closed off, despondent, quiet, and seemed to be act more serious than he needed to be.

In fact, the small moment she witnessed between Captain Rogers and Agent Carter seemed to be the first time she had seen him smile. Having someone he knew and trusted was step one to getting him to be comfortable; it was tough to be alone in a strange new world. It helped to have a familiar face. Even if that face was a lot older than before.

And, from what she had read, people suffering from Alzheimer's were known to thrive on familiarity. Pairing that with what she had learned from talking with Captain Rogers - he was grasping for anything familiar. So it was clear that these visits would benefit both him and Peggy.

Q had just finished putting all of the edge pieces of the puzzle together when she heard the hurried steps of someone coming down the stairs. Glancing over, she managed to see Captain Rogers sprint by and out the door.

"Shi - ." She reacted, lurching up from her chair. In one fluid motion, she swiped her phone from the table and went running out of the building. She quickly hurried down the stairs, careful not to trip over herself as she went. She pushed against the gate and let it slam behind her as she looked both ways, trying to spot him.

Off to the right, he had started running down the sidewalk and she had no choice but the go after him. Picking up her pace, she tried to catch up with him. Her heels clicked against the sidewalk as she went. Christ on a cracker he was fast. She wasn't a runner - hell the most exercise she ever got was during her lunch walks with Dawson.

"Captain!" She yelled out after him, trying to get his attention. Her muscles burned as she ran after him. She could already feel her feet aching in the tight shoes she had worn; when she began her day, she had no intention of running in the shoes. Her hair was flying out behind her and her phone was already slipping in her hand from the sweat. Her entire body was screaming for her to stop, but there was no chance in hell she was going to until he did.

"Captain Rogers!" She cried out again, voice raw as her body tried to keep her from using too much oxygen.

He began to slow - whether from her voice or just because, and then he came to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk. As she got closer to him, she slowed her pace to a slight jog before falling into a slow walk. She pressed her hands to her hips and bent forward at the waist, trying to catch her breath. Her vision was a bit blurry and her mouth was dry. She could feel her heart hammering against her chest. Her lungs burned a bit as she took in a few deep breaths. God she was so out of shape.

Captain Rogers sat down on the curb, resting his arms on his knees and letting his head dangle in the space between. She shuffled forward and slowly lowered herself down with a wince so that she was sitting next to him. The heat from the unexpected run radiated throughout her entire body and she wanted so badly to take off her blazer but knew that there would be sweat stains the size of Texas under her arms. So she settled for pushing her sleeves up to her elbows.

Picking up her hair with one hand, she propped her elbow up against her knee and brought her hair over to her left side so that she could turn her head to look at Captain Rogers. His head was still hanging and his shoulders rose and fell with each heavy breath he took. She took in how he looked - defeated, how he was - quiet, and how he was sitting - like a huge weight was crushing him.

For a moment, the only sound was both of them catching their breath. He kept his head down and eyes away from her. She let her hair go, taking in a breath as she sat up a bit straighter. She let her arms cross over her stomach and took in their surroundings. They had run about two blocks from the home. She squinted a bit as she turned her face back to look across the street at the pizza parlor that was underneath what seemed to be fancy apartment homes.

"You can't do that." She finally broke the silence, still sounding slightly winded. She thought that she had gotten her breath back and calmed her heart rate down so her voice was steady and serious. Because it was true. He couldn't just run off like that on her. Well, he could, but it wasn't cool cause it meant she had to run after him, which she didn't like one bit.

Captain Rogers didn't respond. He didn't even indicate that he had heard her. The only way she knew he did was by the slight twitch of his ears. But other than that, he gave her nothing more. She pursed her lips and leaned forward, trying to twist her head so that she could catch his eye,

"Captain." she stated, tone a bit more serious than it was before. "Do you understand me?" She asked, already hating how she sounded, but knowing she needed to get her point across, "You can not just run off like that. It's not safe or secure for either of us. You -"

"I understand." Captain Rogers cut her off. His voice was monotone and answer was short. She took in a quick breath at his curt answer. Nothing more was said from him and she pulled her posture up a bit straighter.

The logical continuation of the conversation would be to ask what happened to cause such a reaction. From his body language and actual language, she figured that he wasn't going to be forthcoming with that information. But she had read enough and was smart enough to put two and two together: something must've happened with Peggy. She either forgot him, got angry at him, or decided he wasn't worth her time. Any of the above could certainly cause his reaction.

Feeling a bit self conscious at the fact that she just had to reprimand the World's First Superhero, she rubbed her hands over her mouth and let out a slow breath. She didn't want to be the bad guy, the one who was always serious all the time. She certainly didn't want to just have to tell him what he had done was wrong or have to be a hardass about things.

Because of that, of not wanting to be the Bad Cop, she decided the best possible thing to do was sit there until he was ready to go. She wasn't about to force him to do anything he didn't want to do. So if he wanted to sit on a curb and wallow for a few minutes, then so be it. They had enough time to discuss his emotions and actions and reactions. She wasn't about to tell him to stop being sad - but she was going to try to help him.

Without another word, Captain Rogers suddenly got to his feet. She scrambled to follow, slipping a bit on the edge but catching herself before she fell off of the curb. He squinted a bit, taking in his surroundings and glancing over his shoulder to where they had come from. His hands were placed on his hips - it was beginning to become apparent that that was a natural pose for him, and she watched as he scanned the area.

"Do you want to head back?" She carefully asked. She was unsure if enough time had passed in between the run and the rest. But she wanted him to know she was aware of how he was reacting to the situation.

"Is there somewhere else we can go?" He asked back, gaze returning to hers. "I can't - I need to - " He was struggling with telling her what he wanted. There was a vulnerability to him that she hadn't seen yet and obviously whatever had happened inside of Sunrise had caused it to come forward. Her heart went out to him; it must be difficult to deal with having someone but not having all of them. She wanted nothing more than to get his mind off of whatever had happened in there.

"Of course." She nodded once, readapting her professional attitude, "We can go." Captain Rogers let out a relieved breath, some of the tension leaving his body as he did so.

Yanking her sleeves down, she walked past him, silently indicating that he should follow. He fell into step with her and the two walked back to her car in total silence. Since there wasn't a conversation, it gave her time to pick up on a few things she missed during their time walking through SHIELD.

Like how his step pattern was a little uneven, always favoring the right side. Not quite like a limp, and not enough that anyone would notice, but more like a way to compensate for an injury that wasn't there anymore. Even with his hands in his pockets, she noticed the small movements of his fingers, like he was itching for something to distract himself with. The way his mouth was pursed slightly and how he inhaled through his nose and out through the pursed lips was enough to tell her that he was used to having asthma attacks. The super soldier serum may have gotten rid of all of his illnesses and birth defects, but it didn't mean his muscle memory forgot. It had become second nature to him.

Once at the car, she opened the door for Captain Rogers, then made her way over to the driver's side. As same as before, he managed to reach across and push open her door for her, something that she didn't expect and wasn't sure why he continued to do. But, she gave him a grateful smile as she ducked into the car.

Never one who was good with silence (when she was growing up, silence almost always meant that someone was getting into trouble), she turned on the radio. A loud song blasted through the speakers causing both of them to wince and for her to quickly move to turn down the volume. After re-adjusting the volume, she glanced over to see Captain Rogers looking at the radio with his brows furrowed. Surely, they had car radios back in the day. There was a war going on - they needed them to communicate with teams.

"Everything okay?" Q decided to ask, knowing it was better to be safe than sorry. And hell, it was much better than listening to the radio in silence.

"Is this supposed to be music?" He asked back, looking confused and slightly offended. He pointed to the radio and then made eye contact with her.

"Uh, yes." Her head bobbed in a nod. She wasn't really sure where he was going with his question and direct answers seemed to be the most useful way to go. He let out a scoff and shook his head. She glanced over to see him settle back in his seat, eyebrows raising.

"Back in my day, there were actual instruments used." A small bemused smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she realized how offended he sounded. In an effort to keep her reaction neutral, she turned her attention back to the road, stifling the smile.

"I'll make a note of that." She settled on, not really knowing what else to say.

Her first instinct was to make a joke, relieve some of that tension that had been around them since they met. But she stuffed it down, fearing that it would come off as unprofessional. She didn't want him going back to Fury and telling him, thus making it so that Fury would take her off of the project and stuffed back down in the basement. She was going to do everything in her power to show him that she could handle the assignment. Which meant, she was going to keep it professional and clean.

Obviously, Q wanted him to like her. It would make things easier if he did. He would be more open and willing to talk to her. But she still wanted him to think she was serious and professional. She just had to figure out a way for him to like her and trust her while keeping things professional. There had to be a balance.

"When was the last time you ate?" She asked, noticing the time. There was a pause as Captain Rogers thought about her question.

"Yesterday morning." He quietly answered her. It was clear that even he was just realizing that it had been over twenty four hours since his last meal. The past twenty four hours had been a whirlwind for both of them.

At his answer, she licked her lips and nodded. Then at the next light, she turned right, deciding to go against her original plan of action (taking him straight to his apartment). Even if he was the World's First Superhero, he still needed to eat. Luckily, she knew of the perfect place.

A few minutes later, the car slowed as Q gently pulled it off to the side of the road. The OPEN sign in the window of the deli blinked in a sporadic rhythm and the green awning was lit underneath, illuminating the white font of: Stein Family Delicatessen. She opened the door for him, only to have him reach over her and take the door from her, indicating that she were to walk in first.

The 24 hour Jewish deli was right smack in between Q and Captain Rogers' apartment buildings. And it was one that she frequented often on her way to work (for their breakfast sandwiches) or late night cravings.

"Beginning to worry we weren't gonna see you today!" They were greeted as they stepped inside the deli. A smile broke out across Q's face as she spotted who spoke, Albert, the elderly man who owned the deli with his wife and sons.

"C'mon, you know I can't go a day without seeing your face, Al." She joked back, briefly forgetting who she was with and that she was still working. Albert winked at her as they met at the counter.

"Who's your friend?" He asked, tilting his head forward to get her to look behind her shoulder. Captain Rogers was standing a few feet away, doing a scan of the deli. At his question, she realized she had made a mistake. She shouldn't have taken him somewhere so public - even if it was just a small, family owned deli. It was a security risk. Damnit, she should've known better.

She quickly looked back to Albert and began to come up with an excuse. She didn't need him telling everyone on the block that Captain America had been in his deli. And she knew how gossipy he was - he knew everyone's business and had no problem telling anyone anything that might be of interest.

"Just a work friend." She swallowed, shaking her head a bit, "Lunch break." She lied, knowing it was way past lunch time - bordering on dinner time.

"Looks familiar…" Albert trailed off, studying Captain Rogers.

"Yep, yeah, like every other average white guy who comes in here, right, Al?" She quickly tried to get his attention off of where Captain Rogers was standing. He looked back at her, eyeing her in a way that made it clear that he was unconvinced at her attempt to dissuade him from trying to recognize who was in his deli. She made her eyes wide and tilted her head slightly, silently pleading with him not to say anything else or ask any more questions.

"Alright, alright." He put his hands up on the counter, giving in, "Usual for you?" She nodded, relaxing slightly at the subject change. It lasted only a second; Albert moved on, shifting his gaze to Captain Rogers, "How bout you, kid? Whatcha eating?"

Following Albert's gaze, she looked over to see Captain Rogers standing a few feet away, almost in one of the aisles of snack foods. At the question, his attention turned to Albert and he stepped forward. He glanced up at the massive menu that was on the wall behind Al. A look of panic came over his face and it was clear there was too much to choose from. Noticing it, Q turned back to Albert, meeting his expectant look.

"He'll have what I'm having, but with a water." She decidedly said, taking charge. It was easier than having him try and figure out what each thing was and then spending more time in the deli than she would've liked. Someone might recognize him. It could be a problem.

Nodding, Albert tapped the top of the counter before stepping back. He turned away from the pair and went to work on the sandwiches. She moved away from the counter, going into her messenger bag for her wallet. She pushed past his file folders that she had stuffed in there so that they weren't just out in her car and found her wallet at the bottom of her bag.

"What are you having?" She looked up at the sound of Captain Rogers' voice. His hands were stuffed into his pockets and he was standing much closer to her than she realized. He looked curious, eyes darting from the menu, back to her as he tried to place her usual order.

"Oh, just a turkey club." Her answer was simple and paired with a casual hand wave, "Nothing too fancy." She heard him make a noise in response and when she glanced back at him, she noticed his eyebrows were raised. He looked pleased with her answer and for some reason, it was a relief to her.

"Here ya go, sweetheart." Albert called out to her. He had a wrapped up sandwich in each of his hands and on top of the counter was a bottle of water alongside a filled soda cup.

"Thanks, Al." She said with a warm smile. She stepped over to take one of the sandwiches, passing it back to Captain Rogers. He took it, turning it over in his hands for a moment before looking back at her. She handed him the water bottle, then turned back to Albert.

She pulled out her yellow wallet and popped it open, pulling out a twenty. As she did, she heard Captain Rogers step up next to her,

"How much was mine?" He asked her.

"Oh, don't worry about it." She waved him away, passing the twenty over the counter to Albert.

"I can pay for mine." He insisted, getting her to look back at him.

"It's fine, I got it." She gave him a warm smile, holding eye contact with him. They stared at each other for a moment before he nodded once.

"Okay." He gave in, stepping back from her. "Thank you." She nodded at him then turned back to collect her change, stuffing a few dollars into the tip jar.

The rest of her change was dumped into her messenger bag, wallet be damned. She reached for her sandwich and soda cup, lifting them up to Albert in a mock salute.

"See you tomorrow, Al." He nodded at them, wiping his hands on the rag as he did so.

"Thank you, sir." Captain Rogers sincerely thanked him, getting a nod back from Albert as well.

"Have a good one." He bid them goodnight as Q started to walk out of the deli, Captain Rogers following behind her.

Holding the door open with her body, she let Captain Rogers step outside. He paused, waiting for her to move away from the door. She did so, letting the door swing shut behind her. Side stepping, she set her soda down on the window ledge so that she had a free hand to unwrap her sandwich. He followed suit and used one hand to open his water bottle up. She took a bite, chewing thoughtfully for a moment before swallowing,

"Are you okay with walking a few blocks?" She asked.

"Sure." He responded with a casual shrug. "Where are we going?"

"Your apartment." She answered, picking up her soda. His brow furrowed and he looked sort of confused at the idea of an apartment. "What? You didn't think we'd leave you out on the street, did you?" She asked at his expression. The furrowed brow raised up, and he rocked back on his heels,

"No, well..." He trailed off and once again she had to suppress her smile. She did so by taking a sip of her soda. He made a face, making it clear that he actually had considered it for a moment.

Without another word, she stepped away from the deli and started to walk towards his apartment. Captain Rogers fell into step next to her and for a moment the only sounds were them eating their sandwiches.

"How is it?" Q asked after a moment, making sure her mouth wasn't full before she spoke.

"Good." He immediately responded. He examined the sandwich, turning it to the side to inspect it fully, "A lot better than back in my day." He paused, glancing over to her, "I can pay you back for it."

"Oh, no, don't worry about it." She declined his offer once again. Part of her thought he didn't even have any money. How could he? He had been frozen in a block of ice for seventy years.

"I have money, you know." He continued. She looked over at him, a little startled at his comment. It was like he had read her mind. There was a little amused smile on his face and she tried to control her reaction - shifting her features back into a neutral expression.

"How?" She couldn't help but ask, genuinely curious as to how he had money. The only logical explanation was that whatever money he had in the bank from when he was selling bonds had accrued interest during the time he was frozen.

"Most of it was from when I was selling bonds during World War Two." Once again, he had practically read her mind. She raised her eyebrows, stuffing down the urge to make a joke about not having a lot of use for cash when you're frozen in a block of ice. So she nodded, keeping her mouth shut which made him continue, "Plus, there's the pension from the Army and then SHIELD paid us after what happened in New York."

At his answer, she pulled the corners of her mouth down, impressed by how he achieved his income. Especially the pension; if the Army had honored his time in the ice, his pension could be quite sizable.

"Well, you don't have to worry about dipping into those funds at all." She responded, "SHIELD has everything covered for you. Rent, utilities, food, clothes...really anything you could possibly need or want." She met his eyes, giving him a warm smile, "We want you to be comfortable."

"I appreciate that, Agent Proctor." Captain Rogers nodded at her, but something about his expression led her to think that he didn't really believe her.

A few minutes later, they had finished their sandwiches and deposited the trash in one of the many trash cans along the street. They were coming upon a tall brick apartment building with beautiful details added to it that gave it some character. It was in Dupont Circle, right next to Zobra's Cafe: a restaurant/pub that had a few patrons sitting outside, enjoying to cool air of the summer night.

Q had spent quite a bit of her time trying to find a solid apartment building - obviously cost wasn't an issue, but she wanted it to be somewhere centrally located. She had watched enough HGTV to know what made a good apartment. And with less than three days to find an apartment and decorate it, she truly felt like she had been living one of the many HGTV shows she watched. But she liked the building she had found; she had considered living there a few months before but all of the floor plans had been leased up. So she moved a few blocks down into a semi decent building. SHIELD had worked their magic to get not only one, but two apartments in the building - one for Captain Rogers and the one next door for Sharon.

She led Captain Rogers into the building, noticing him glancing around as they went into the lobby. They passed the front desk, nodding hello to the employee working there but saying nothing more. There was an ornate staircase with a pair of elevators down the hall from it. Underneath the stairs were rows of mailboxes, which she stepped over to first.

Digging into the front pocket of her messenger bag, her hand came in contact with the key ring. It had all the keys Captain Rogers would need: apartment key, mailbox key, and two keys to her apartment (lobby and apartment - just in case). She held up the mailbox key, then tapped it against the box marked with the number 4.

"For your mail. It corresponds with your apartment number." She explained, knowing he probably knew that, but just wanting to make sure. He nodded at her, not verbally responding and she stepped away from the mailboxes.

Going up the stairs, they got to the second floor and turned down the hall. His apartment was at the end of the hall, marked with a 4 that matched with his mailbox. Q had requested that the apartment be on the second floor because it would be easier to get in and out of - in case anything were to go wrong.

She paused in front of the door and handed over the keys to Captain Rogers. She made sure to hand it to him with the apartment key out so that he knew which one to use. He took it, turning it over in his hand and noticing the stitched banner keychain that was on it.

"World War Two Veteran?" He read aloud and her eyes went wide as she noticed. Her face began to heat up and she started to panic. The stupid keychain that Dawson had put on the key ring as a joke was still on there. She remembered his obvious amusement at it, how he joked about how Captain America is sure to get a kick out of this. She had vowed to take it off before giving over the keys, but apparently, she had forgotten.

"Oh, uhm," Her mouth was dry as she tried to think of an explanation. She was coming up blank and quickly reached for the keys, wanting to take the keychain off and throw it out the window or shove it up Dawson's ass.

But before she could take the keys back, Captain Rogers moved his hand ever so slightly. Her eyes flicked up at him to see that there was an small, amused smile on his face. It seemed like he actually liked the keychain and it didn't seem like he was offended by it in the slightest. She let out a nervous laugh and went to scratch at her temple while one hand went to rest on her hip.

Not knowing what else to say, she stepped back a bit, letting him use the key to unlock his apartment door. He stepped inside first, flicking on the lights and she stepped in after, taking in all the work she had done in the past few days. Knowing the apartment like the back of her hand, her attention shifted to see his reaction.

He kept his face neutral as his eyes flicked around the apartment, taking in every single detail. To the left of the entryway, there was a bookshelf built into the wall that she had filled with every encyclopedia from 1940 until the present day. To the right, there was an open doorway that led to the kitchen - with open shelves that housed bowls, glasses, coffee mugs...anything that didn't fit in the cabinets of the kitchen. She followed him as he walked down the entryway which opened up into the living room and dining room area.

There was another entrance off to the side of the front hall that led to the kitchen from the living room. A breakfast bar separated the kitchen from the dining room and had three stools lined up underneath. There was a small dining room table, enough to fit four. Once in the living room, there was a door to the left that led to his bedroom. Otherwise, there was a standing bookshelf against wall that had a record player set on top with a lamp next to it. There was a chair by it, a couch with a coffee table in the middle, in front of a faux fireplace.

She had stuck with darker tones, thinking about what her father would like if he had his own apartment. Besides filling the shelves with books, stocking up the kitchen with food and water, and making sure there was enough of everything he could possibly need (towels, sheets, blankets, etc), there wasn't much else she did in the apartment in terms of decorating. Sure she hung some random photos that had come with frames and done minimal accessorizing, but she figured he would want to put his own mark on it. Use some of his things from his place in New York or from before the war.

"Your kitchen is fully stocked," She spoke up as he walked through the apartment, "The television has every channel you could think of and more. And the WiFi password is stuck to the fridge." She explained. At that, he turned, looking back at her,

"Like internet, right?" He asked.

"Right." She nodded at him. He looked pleased with himself that he had gotten that correct, "Your stuff from New York should be here within the next few days, but you should have everything you need to get you by until then." She gave him a small smile matched with a nod. He looked around the apartment, hands on his hips as he did so. Then his gaze landed back on her,

"Thank you, Agent." He nodded at her and she returned the nod again. Her hands went into her messenger bag to pull out his file folders. She stepped into the dining room area and placed them on the table, next to the SHIELD distributed laptop.

"You'll need to sign that SHIELD form in there as well." She directed, making sure that specific file folder was on top. He walked over to the dining room table, but didn't open the folder. Reaching back into her bag, she pulled out a flip phone and handed it out to him.

"This is also for you." She explained as he took it from her, "The only number in it is mine. It's just in case of emergencies or whenever you need to talk." She folded her hands in front of her as he flipped open the phone, "You use the green button to - "

"I know how cell phones work." He cut her off. "I'm not completely helpless." She made a face to herself, not realizing that. She had gotten a flip phone, figuring it would be the most basic way to start him off with the new technologies of the modern world. Then they could progress to smart phones.

"Alright." She put her hands up. "Understood."

Clasping her hands together, she looked around the apartment. There was nothing more she had to do. They could technically have another session of talking, especially after what had happened with Peggy, but they had done a lot for day one. And truth be told, she was exhausted. It was much more than she had ever done during her work day - including the short run they went on.

"Is there anything else I can get for you, Captain?" She asked, getting his attention once more. His eyebrows raised up and he straightened up a bit more. He paused a moment before letting out a breath and shaking his head slightly.

"No, I think I'm all good here."

"Good." She gave him a firm nod, "Then I will leave you be for the night and see you tomorrow for our morning session." He nodded back at, silently telling her that he understood. She took in a deep breath and gave him a warm smile, "Have a good night, Captain." She bid him goodnight, turning and walking out of the apartment.

Quietly, she shut the door behind her. Once it was closed, she let her shoulders sag as she relaxed almost immediately. She no longer had to keep up the professional appearance. She walked away from Captain Rogers' apartment, shedding her blazer as she went and pulling it through the space of her bag so she didn't have to hold it in her arms. Yanking her hair out of the hairdo she had it in all day, she felt the waves of her hair fan out as it was released from the tight hair tie.

As she exited the apartment building, she took off her heels and made a mental note to wear sensible shoes from then on. Just in case she needed to run again. The sidewalk was cold under her bare feet and she didn't mind walking barefoot; her feet needed to get out of those shoes as soon as possible.

Walking back to her apartment, she let her mind wander. She thought back over the day, mentally pinning things she needed to write down that she hadn't gotten the chance to: the moment on the curb, the deli, the walk to the apartment, the apartment….all of it needed to be recorded. She realized that writing things down would only help during the sessions - she would need to bring a recorder for when they weren't in the apartment as well as figure out a way to track his moods and reactions.

Back in her one bedroom apartment, she made sure her locks were locked before discarding her messenger bag in the hall. She pulled out her notepad and walked down the hall, flipping through her notes as she went. Letting her shoes drop from her fingers, she sat down on her couch and placed the notepad off to the side so she could unbutton her pants. Shimmying out of her pants, she kicked them off across the room and then reached under her shirt to take her bra off. It fell on the floor next to the couch. She picked up her notepad and got to her feet, walking into the kitchen as she read over her notes.

There, she pulled out a can of soda, popping the tab with one hand as she let the fridge door close. Eyes never leaving her notepad, she walked back over to the couch and placed her soda on the coffee table. The notepad went onto the cushion next to her so she could reach for her laptop. She opened it up and pulling up an empty Word doc.

For the next few hours, Q typed up her notes from her day with Captain Rogers. She figured it would be better to have a hard and a digital copy just in case something was to happen to one. She included what she mentally had pinned during her walk and made sure to add her own personal notes underneath everything. Then she did a general summary of her notes, one that she would use during their meetings with Fury.

By the time she was finished, her neck and back were stiff from being bent over the laptop for such a long period of time. She straightened up and felt her back crack in response. She did the same with her neck, cracking it each way before slumping down. The clock on her laptop told her she had been working later than she intended. She still needed to get a shower and get ready for day two.

Pushing her laptop off of her lap, she got to her feet, feeling her joints crack at the use. She made her way into her bathroom, intent on finally showering off that surprise run. As she turned on the shower, she heard her phone start to ring. Sighing, she walked back into the front hall where she went into her messenger bag for her cell phone.

Instead of Dawson's name - who she thought was calling her to talk about her first day, it was Captain Rogers'. She immediately straightened up and a knot of anxiety formed in her stomach; she had only left him alone a few hours prior. What could have possibly gone wrong?

Quickly, she answered the phone, twirling her hair around a finger of her free hand. Not wanting to sound nervous, she tried to push her anxiety down and away. She pressed her phone to her ear, immediately asking,

"Captain, is everything okay?"


	5. get through the night

While Steve appreciated whoever had decorated his apartment, he couldn't help but feel like someone was trying to take modern elements and trying to force them to a time he would recognize. The dish-ware that was displayed was bulky instead of the simple, delicate pieces his mother had. The record player looked smaller than he remembered and the furniture seemed denser than it had in the past.

He walked through the apartment with his hands on his hips. Agent Proctor stayed a few steps behind him, but he could feel her eyes on him. Watching him take it all in - his new home. All thanks to SHIELD.

"Your kitchen is fully stocked," She spoke up as he continued through the apartment. He had gotten to the living room as she continued, "The television has every channel you could think of and more. And the WiFi password is stuck to the fridge." she explained. At that, he turned, looking back at her,

"Like internet, right?" he asked.

"Right." She nodded at him. A pleased look appeared on his face at her answer. He remembered Tony mentioning something about how internet was called WiFi now. Understanding the word internet was enough of a challenge for him; back in his day they barely had wireless radio. Now, it seemed that there was a whole wide world web that he could use to access any piece of information at any time. It still baffled him, but he was happy he had gotten it correct,

"Your stuff from New York should be here within the next few days," she moved on, "but you should have everything you need to get you by until then." She gave him a small smile matched with a nod. He looked around the apartment once more, realizing that none of the items were actually his. In fact, he hadn't even thought about how he would get his things from New York. Not that he had much to begin with, but it would be nice to have some familiar items. His gaze landed back on Agent Proctor,

"Thank you." He nodded at her and she returned the nod once more. Her hands went into her messenger bag to pull out his file folders. With everything that had happened since they left SHIELD, he had almost forgotten about the file folders she had given him earlier in the day. She stepped into the dining room area and placed them on the table, next a laptop that looked similar to the ones he had seen during his time at SHIELD during the New York incident.

"You'll need to sign that form in there as well." she directed, making sure the specific file folder was on top. He walked over to the dining room table, but didn't open the folder. It stared up at him, almost menacingly. He knew what was inside: the agreement that stated that he would be working for SHIELD full time, as an asset. Something he wasn't sure he was quite ready to agree to yet.

Glancing back at her, he watched as her hand dipped back into her bag. She pulled out a flip phone similar to the one Fury had given to him after the New York attack. She handed it out to him, speaking as she did so,

"This is also for you." she explained as he took it from her, "The only number in it is mine. It's just in case of emergencies or whenever you need to talk." She folded her hands in front of her as he flipped open the phone, "You use the green button to - "

"I know how cell phones work." he cut her off, "I'm not completely helpless." She made a face at his answer and Steve realized it might have come out a bit harsher than he intended. He didn't mean to put so much attitude behind it, but it was true. He may have been frozen in ice for seventy years, but he caught on fast. He survived long enough one his own before Fury came to him with the Avengers Initiative.

"Alright." She put her hands up. "Understood." He kept his eyes on the phone, turning it on to see the welcome screen. It did in fact only have Agent Proctor's contact information. He exited the contact book and shut the phone, letting it turn over in his hands.

"Is there anything else I can get for you, Captain?" Agent Proctor suddenly asked, getting his attention once more. His eyebrows raised up and he straightened up a bit more. He paused for a moment, thinking about everything they had gone over. It seemed that everything he needed to get through the night was in the apartment. There was nothing else he could really think of that he needed. So he let out a breath and shook his head slightly.

"No, I think I'm all good here."

"Good." She gave him a firm nod, "Then I will leave you be for the night and see you tomorrow for our morning session." He nodded back at, silently telling her that he understood. He remembered her mentioning something about having an evening session as well, but it seemed she had decided it had been enough for day one. She took in a deep breath and gave him a warm smile, "Have a good night, Captain." she bid him goodnight, turning and walking out of the apartment.

The apartment door quietly shut behind her, leaving him alone in the apartment. It suddenly dawned on him that she wasn't staying with him. For a moment, he felt that was odd; wouldn't SHIELD want to keep an eye on him? But then relief took its place; he was finally free of SHIELD and its asset for the night. He was alone for the first time that day.

Walking into the kitchen, he opened up the fridge to find that it was in fact fully stocked. He moved back from the fridge, shutting the door before going to the cabinets where there was even more dish-ware. He took a glass out and went over to the sink, filling it with water. Then, he stepped over to the window, noticing the fire escape that was below it.

He peered out the window just in time to see Agent Proctor walk out of the apartment building. She no longer donned the blazer she had been wearing the whole day - instead it was tucked over her messenger bag. Her hair was out of the half up, half down hairdo it had been in, the dark waves fanning out over her shoulders. He watched her lean against the side of the stairs and take off her heels. She let them dangle from her fingers as she stepped off of the stairs and onto the sidewalk. He couldn't help but watch her walk back towards the deli they had visited, presumably to get her car, - barefoot and in a much more relaxed manner than she had been before.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth; it was clear that she was much more than just a SHIELD robot. Seeing her outside of his apartment in that way, humanized her a bit. She was just following orders. He could understand that.

As she disappeared into the night, Steve turned away from the window. He looked around his apartment once more before walking over to the table where Agent Proctor had put the file folders from earlier in the day. He sighed to himself; he wasn't ready to deal with that quite yet.

He walked past the table, wanting to explore more of his apartment. Pressing his fingers against the wall switch, he turned on the light that was by the turntable. Still holding his water glass, he walked over to the turntable, examining the small record collection that was beginning. There were some names he recognized: Count Basie, Tommy Dorsey, Duke Ellington, Benny Goodman, Woody Herman...but it was clear that whoever had decorated just picked the most popular names of the time he was from. It didn't stop him from putting one of the records on, letting a familiar tune play through the apartment as he continued with his self guided tour.

His bedroom was plain and simple. There was a double twin bed in the center of the room underneath a window with a nightstand and lamp. An empty bookshelf was against the wall by the door while his dresser was across from the bed, next to another door that led to the bathroom. Peering into the dresser, he noticed the drawers were full - each drawer specific for an article of clothing. The closet also had a number of shirts and jackets hanging up. Agent Proctor continued to be right: he really did have everything he needed.

Exiting the bedroom, Steve walked back out to main living area. He caught sight of the pile of file folders on the table in the dining area. There was only so much he could do before he was faced with the inevitable. He settled himself at the table, reaching for the folder that was on the top - the one with the form he was supposed to sign. Instead of opening it, he placed it to the side and pulled the other two closer to him.

The first one was similar to one he was given when he woke up in New York. It contained the profiles of all his past comrades, those he fought with - the Howling Commandos. He already read them all, more than once. All of them had died of natural causes, after the war was over.

He let the folder close, not wanting to relive the heartbreak of finding out that some of the bravest men he knew were gone. Setting it off to the side, he moved on to the next folder. It was much thicker than the others and he found out that it was because it was more than one packet.

In it, there were different documents that discussed SHIELD's beginnings, middles and current achievements. Starting at the beginning, Steve read about how Peggy and Howard turned the SSR into SHIELD. According to the documents, it was founded in the wake of the Allied victory over the Axis powers and HYDRA in World War II to protect the United States, and later the entire world, from all possible threats.

As Steve read through the documents, he had to stifle an eye roll because, sure, SHIELD looked good on paper. But it still gave him an uneasy feeling. It was a secret to the public. They were unknowingly being watched over by a higher power that wasn't just their government. He didn't need to read more about a division he had experienced first hand.

There was only one folder left. Steve heaved a sigh before he reached for it and flipped it open, seeing the white paper that was stamped with the SHIELD logo in the center. Underneath was a contract that outlined what his responsibilities were going to be once he signed at the bottom of the paper. The typeface was small and condensed, but the important things were highlighted. He would be SHIELD's asset, working with the STRIKE team to neutralize threats. He would go out on missions or stay at the Triskelion working with the operations team. It was clear that once he signed the contract, he was SHIELD's. Completely and fully.

Once he was finished reading the contract, he took in a breath. His grip on the paper relaxed and he sat back in his seat. He let his eyes wander as he weighed his options. First and foremost, he didn't trust SHIELD. He didn't like how they operated. He had experienced it first hand during his time with the Avengers. Being their personal superhero was something he was not looking forward to. Who knew what they would make him do.

Technically, he didn't need to sign the contract; he had seen Peggy. He knew where she was living. And she was the only reason he agreed to come back to SHIELD. A part of him wondered why Agent Proctor didn't make him sign the contract before they went to the retirement home. Maybe she just forgot.

At the thought of Peggy, his thoughts drifted back to their reunion. It had started off so well. He was so relieved that she remembered him. Agent Proctor had left them alone, for which he was grateful. Because when she left, the looming presence of SHIELD disappeared too. He could relax and be with Peggy without having to worry about keeping up an appearance.

But minutes later, things turned sour. Peggy had become confused, not understanding who Steve was or why he was in her room. He tried to explain himself, but she just became more and more agitated. He didn't want to cause a scene so he quickly left the room. A panicked response, but one that he felt was better than staying. He remembered feeling like the walls were closing in on him, even once he was in the open hallway. He had to get out of the building before it collapsed on him. Which was why he went running.

What he didn't account for was Agent Proctor following him. His brain didn't think about the effects of his actions. He just needed to get out. And she had followed him. The only reason he stopped was because he heard her voice behind him. It jolted him out of his panicked thoughts.

While he and Agent Proctor were sitting on the curb, he started to come down from the adrenaline rush. He understood that what he did was surprising, but he couldn't understand why it was wrong. He had reacted in a non-violent way, not in a way that hurt anyone (though he could practically hear Agent Proctor's heart racing from the run, as if she didn't exercise regularly).

Then, he was reminded that he wasn't that little guy from Brooklyn anymore. He was Captain America. Running off with no warning was dangerous; he had enemies. As much as the world loved him, there were a few who didn't. And those who didn't could be a threat. He couldn't run off with no warning.

Even though it had been years since he had become Captain America, Steve still sometimes had trouble remembering that he wasn't just Steve Rogers anymore. Sometimes he felt like the boy he once was, stuck in the body of someone he had only ever dreamed of. In his body that didn't truly feel like his. Out of place was a good way to describe it. And it wasn't just his body. After waking up from the ice, he generally felt out of place in every way. During the short time he was able to visit with Peggy ( the Peggy who remembered him ) he felt like he had someone who understood him. She might have adapted to the world as it changed and modernized, but she knew what it was like back then. Before it all.

His eyes landed on the keyring that Agent Proctor had given him before they entered the apartment. The World War II Veteran keychain stuck out to him. At first sight, Steve had found it funny. Mostly because it was true. He was technically a World War II Veteran. He also enjoyed Agent Proctor's obvious embarrassment at realizing the keychain was still on the keyring. Almost like she had put it on there as a joke with herself, never expecting him to see it.

But with his mind still on Peggy, his eyes lingered on it and that amusement turned into a feeling of guilt; he should be in that retirement home. Right next to Peggy. Instead, he was The World's First Superhero. He was out saving the world while Peggy slowly deteriorated in a retirement home.

Pushing back from the table, Steve quickly got to his feet. The guilt was becoming overwhelming. It felt like it was wrapping itself around him. He took in a deep breath and turned around in a slow circle, trying to get his bearings and calm himself down. He could faintly hear the music playing from the turntable and forced himself to focus on that until it became clear as day.

His eyes landed on the flip phone Agent Proctor had given him earlier in the evening. Her voice echoed in the back of his mind, a reminder that he could use it if he needed her. A part of him was aching to talk about what he had just gone through, about what had happened during the day; it still felt like a weight was on his shoulders. Guilt or something else, he wasn't sure.

He glanced to the clock on the wall, seeing how late it had gotten. Time flew when reading about secret government divisions. He couldn't call her; it was rude to call at such a late hour. He could wait until the morning. He would have to.

The only other thing Steve could think of to do at such a late hour was head to bed. Sleep it off and wake to a new day. It was how he had dealt with anything remotely uncomfortable in the Army. Sleeping it off was the cure for everything. So he moved through his apartment, walking through the bedroom and into the bathroom.

He stepped over to the tub, looking over the shower before reaching for the knobs. The water started to stream out of the spout and into the tub, but not out of the showerhead. Brows furrowing, he moved his hand to the middle knob, twisting it to the left. He expected the motion to change the water flow, making it come out of the shower head, but the water continued to stream out of the spout.

Pausing, Steve looked over the tub, trying to figure out how to get the water to come out of the shower head. He didn't have a problem taking a bath, but he would've liked to know how to have the shower work for future reference.

There was no obvious solution and he found himself getting frustrated. He turned off the water, not wanting to waste it, and walked out into the main living area of the apartment. He picked up the flip phone, only to hesitate before opening it. Calling Agent Proctor about a shower situation seemed pointless; he could easily take a bath or not even shower at all.

Holding on to the flip phone, he walked back into his bedroom. He began to get ready for bed, changing into a set of pajamas that were in one of the drawers. He placed the flip phone on the nightstand under the lamp. Then he got into bed, settling against the pillows and staring up at the ceiling.

He tried to fall asleep, but his mind wouldn't quiet. He kept thinking about what happened during the day: his visit to SHIELD, meeting Agent Proctor, reuniting with Peggy, his freakout...how he was very much alone in his apartment. Incredibly alone. He thought being alone would be a welcome relief; Agent Proctor had been glued to his side all day. And whenever it wasn't her, it was either a SHIELD doctor or agent..and then Peggy. Someone was always right there. Until they weren't.

As he laid in his bed, it felt like he was drowning in loneliness. It was like how he had dealt with the past two years had been completely erased. Even though he had only been with someone for less than twenty four hours, it had been a complete 180 from the past two years where he had no one but himself. The moment he had some semblance of constant companionship, everything changed. And now, the sense of aloneness was deafening. He couldn't bear it.

Sitting up in his bed, he reached for the flip phone. His fingers moved across the keypad, not even thinking about what he was doing. He pressed down on Agent Proctor's contact information, letting the call connect before he pressed the phone to his ear.

As the ringing started, Steve began to realize what he was doing. He was calling her, very late at night, about something that was beginning to seem ridiculous. He didn't even know how to explain himself to her or what he was going to say. They barely talked outside of the morning session and he didn't know if they had reached that point where he could call her to ask for help. But that was her job, right? To help him.

He continued to internally debate with himself until the ringing stopped. He pressed the phone harder against his ear, listening intently. Then he heard her voice on the other end,

"Captain, is everything okay?" she sounded concerned. And he suddenly regretted calling her. Not because of how she sounded, but because he felt like he had just ruined her night over something they could easily talk about in the morning. He paused before answering her, pulling his knees up and leaning his elbow against one knee and then resting his forehead in his hand. He took in a breath before answering her,

"Yes." he picked his head up, trying to come up with an excuse that wouldn't cause her to worry about him, "I just…" His eyes traveled over to the bathroom, "I can't figure out the shower." He settled on, wincing slightly at how lame his excuse was. That wasn't something to call someone about in the middle of the night.

"Oh." He heard her tone change into one of slight confusion, "That's okay. It can be a bit confusing." she assured him, tone changing just as quickly as it had before, almost like she was talking to a child, "You just need to pull the ring that's underneath the spout down." she explained. Steve's brows furrowed as he listened to her, not understanding what she was saying. He got out of bed, feet padding against the carpet as he walked into the bathroom. At the tub, he crouched down and used his free hand to palm at the underbelly of the spout. He felt around the ring of the spout, feeling the ring that Agent Proctor was talking about.

"Did you figure it out?" Her voice startled him slightly. He moved back from the tub, straightening up from his crouch.

"Yes, thank you." he answered her. There was a pause before she spoke up again,

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Captain?" She asked. Steve took in a breath, placing his free hand on his hip. A part of him wanted to talk about what had been going on since she left, but he wasn't sure how to ask. Another part of him still didn't fully trust her to talk about such a heavy topic as his guilt.

"No, thank you, Agent." Steve said after a moment's pause. "Sorry to bother you."

"It's not a problem." she immediately responded. He heard her take in a small breath before speaking again, "There's actually a few things in the apartment we should've gone over before I left." Steve's eyebrows raised at her statement, not expecting her to continue like that, "Like the thermostat, the garbage disposal…" she trailed off for a moment, "I can come over and show you how everything works, if you want." He caught on quick, realizing that she was giving him an in - a way for her to come over to talk without him explicitly asking her to come over to talk. He had to admit that he was impressed; she was a lot smarter than he gave her credit for. In the short time they had spent together, she was able to understand him on a surface level. Enough to know that what had happened at Sunrise with Peggy was eating away at him.

"I think that would be helpful." he agreed. He appreciated her offer and it made him feel a little less guilty; she had offered. He hadn't asked her to come over, he hadn't ruined her night. She had decided on her own accord to come back to the apartment to help him.

Several minutes later, Steve had redressed himself in the clothes he had been wearing during the day. There was a knock on the door, signaling her arrival. She had gotten to the apartment a lot faster than he thought she would.

When he opened the door, she greeted him with a warm smile, posture straight as a board. She looked exactly how she did when she had left the apartment: hair pulled back away from her face in the half up, half down do, gray pantsuit on and her kitten heels were back on her feet. A quick smile came over his face at the memory of her walking barefoot down the street.

"Good evening, Captain." she verbally greeted him as he stepped to the side, letting her into the apartment. She walked down the entryway, looking around and her gaze paused on the table in the dining area. It still had his glass of water next to the file folders - he never did sign that form.

The pause was quick and her gaze then returned to meet his. She clasped her hands in front of her before pointing to the wall where the thermostat was. She stepped over to it, Steve following behind her and standing next to her,

"Thermostat." she stated, "It's super simple." She motioned with her hands before glancing over to him. She started to explain to him how to adjust the temperature to his liking. He didn't bother to tell her that he knew how a thermostat worked; they had been invented back in his day. Even before his day. But he was grateful that she had come over - he just needed to figure out a way to change the conversation.

"Got it." He nodded as she finished her explanation. "Thank you, Agent." She nodded back at him, stepping away from the wall. Her eyes flicked over to the table once more and she moved away from him. He turned, watching her walk over to the table and pick up the unsigned form.

"You haven't signed it yet." she stated the obvious as she turned to look at him. She held the offending paper up in her hand, brow furrowing slightly. "Is there a reason why?" She asked. She didn't sound angry or frustrated, just curious. Steve took in a breath, looking away from her as he shook his head a bit,

"No…" he trailed off with the lie, pausing and turning his gaze back to her, "Yes." He corrected himself. Agent Proctor lifted her chin up slightly, studying him for a moment.

He watched as she moved to take her messenger bag off. She gently placed it on the table, reaching in and pulling out the notepad from earlier in the day. There was a pen stuck in the pages, almost like a bookmark. She also pulled out her cell phone, balancing it on top of the notepad. She moved away from the table, stepping over to him as she did so,

"Let's talk about it." she prompted, obviously sensing his hesitation.

"Oh, we don't have to." Steve went to stop her, turning to watch her go over to the chair that was in the corner of the living room by the turntable. "It's late, you - "

"Can you help me with this?" she cut him off, struggling to move the chair, "I don't know why I thought it was a good idea to put this thing here." she mumbled, mostly to herself, but Steve could clearly hear it.

"You put this here?" He asked as he stepped over to move the chair. He wasn't aware that Agent Proctor had any hand in putting together his apartment.

"Yes…" she trailed off, stepping back as he put his hands on the chair, easily lifting it, "I put together the whole apartment, actually." she admitted, sounding a bit embarrassed for some reason. Steve reacted with a look of surprise, not realizing that. He was mildly impressed with her handiwork - it seemed like she had a small knack for interior decorating, even though she had just done the bare bones of the apartment.

"Well, thank you." he said after a moment with a nod at her as he moved the chair over to where she motioned to - in front of the faux fireplace, across from the couch.

"Just part of my job, Captain." Her professional tone returned as she gave him a firm nod. Steve returned it and then she gestured at the couch, indicating that he should take a seat. He did so, sitting in the middle of the couch. It was a lot softer than it looked and he struggled to sit up straight. Meanwhile, Agent Proctor placed her phone on the coffee table in front of the couch before she sat down on the edge of the chair, back straight, ankles crossed, pen poised above her notepad.

"So," she started, "Why haven't you signed the form?" she pointedly asked him.

He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts and organizing them in a way that would make sense. He wanted to complain about SHIELD, talk about why he didn't trust it, but he wasn't sure if he was able to. He didn't know what she would tell Fury behind his back. That might've been the biggest reason he hadn't signed the contract, but there was still other things to talk about: his reunion with Peggy, the overwhelming feeling of guilt that was still lingering there…

But before he could say anything, Agent Proctor's cell phone vibrated against the table, moving with the force of the vibration. She reached out for it as the screen lit up. She was quick enough to grab it that Steve didn't see who was calling her. Her finger pressed against a button and the vibration stopped.

"Sorry about that." she said, a blush creeping up against her skin as she gave him an embarrassed smile.

"You can take the call." he offered, glancing over his shoulder at the clock, "I'm sure it's important if they're calling you at this hour."

"It's nothing." Agent Proctor quickly cut him off, shaking her head as he looked back at her. She gave him a tight smile before clearing her throat. "Continue." she gestured to him, not continuing with a further explanation about who was calling her at such a late hour.

Taking in a breath, Steve glanced around the apartment. Now that he knew that Agent Proctor had decorated his apartment, he understood why it was so neat and organized. Everything was just right and had a place. Besides the obvious comforts, there wasn't much else she did in terms of decorating - almost like she had left it so that he could put his own personal touch on the apartment. Make it feel like his rather than a SHIELD operated home.

"Why didn't you make me sign the contract?" he suddenly asked, looking back at Agent Proctor. Her brow furrowed slightly at the question, but her eye contact never strayed.

"I'm sorry?" she asked back, not understanding the question.

"I mean," he shifted in his seat, beginning to explain his question, "Why didn't you have me sign the contract before taking me to see Peggy?" There was a pause before he continued, "I know where she is now. There's nothing to hold me to the verbal agreement I made with SHIELD." He wasn't quite sure if he would actually make good on his statement, but it was an option he had. He wanted to know why she didn't make him sign the contract before they left the Triskelion.

"You're right." she simply responded with a nod, getting him to become slightly confused.

"Then why not have me sign it before taking me to see her?" he asked again, wanting an explanation. Not that it really mattered to him that much, but he was just confused as to why an organization like SHIELD would be so careless about something as important as this.

"You were supposed to sign it before we left SHIELD." Agent Proctor began to explain, "But I made the decision to take you to visit Peggy first. From our talk, it was clear to me that you needed something familiar. Something, or someone, to show you that you weren't alone." she paused for a moment, "You weren't supposed to see Peggy until next week." she admitted. He felt himself tense at her comment. After everything, he still wouldn't have been able to see Peggy until SHIELD deemed it appropriate. They operated on their own schedule, not caring about how it affected others. Just another reason why they looked better on paper than in person.

"So you disobeyed orders." Steve responded, voice serious as he tilted his head forward slightly. Agent Proctor didn't seem like the type to go against a SHIELD order. From what he saw in the kitchen window, she was doing everything in her power to come across as a professional, SHIELD analyst. There was an obvious difference between her professional self and her personal self.

"In a way, yes." she folded her arms over her notepad, "In a way, no. I moved up the visitation date based on my findings from our initial assessment. It was clear to me that your visit with Peggy would be helpful in speeding up your transition to becoming a SHIELD asset." Her tone was just as serious, almost like she had practiced what she was going to say. "And if anyone asks, that's what I'm going to tell them too." Her eyebrows rose slightly, almost like she was challenging him to say something. He didn't.

Instead, he nodded to himself, realizing that she had gone against orders for him. She had understood that Peggy was the only reason he had come back to SHIELD and verbally agreed to fully work with them. It was nice to have proof that she really did have his best interests at heart, working with him rather than doing whatever SHIELD wanted her to do.

"Speaking of Peggy," she started after a moment's pause, "Tell me what happened today to cause the reaction your had." Steve knew she was referring to his panicked sprint from Sunrise where she had to chase him two full blocks.

He took in a breath and broke eye contact with her, looking around the apartment. He wanted to talk about it. He really did, but he couldn't find the right way to start. There was just so much he couldn't describe. He wasn't used to talking about himself, his feelings. It wasn't something people did back in his day. They just bottled it up until one day they died.

"I don't know." he settled on, knowing it wasn't true. He did know. He freaked out.

"Start at the beginning." she prompted, voice soft but strong. It wasn't a demand, so much as an offer.

Slowly, Steve started to talk about what happened with Peggy. How he had been so relieved that she remembered him and so eager to catch up with someone from his past. He talked about the sudden change in her demeanor when she couldn't place his face to a name or a past shared. He admitted that he panicked and reacted out of fear and confusion, running away before he had to face the facts.

As he talked, Agent Proctor's hand moved fluidly along the pages of her notepad. The only sounds coming from her side of the room was the casual flipping of pages every so often and the scratching of her pen across the paper. Otherwise, she hardly spoke - either commenting on something he said, asking him to explain it more or prompting him to continue if he started to trail off.

"Captain, do you have a history of panic attacks?" Agent Proctor lifted her head up, stopping him from continuing with his train of thought. He made eye contact with her, those dark brown eyes feeling like they could see right through him.

"I don't understand the question." he responded, even though the phrase made perfect sense. He had panicked and it certainly felt like the panic had attacked him.

"A panic attack is a sudden episode of intense fear that triggers severe physical reactions when there is no real danger or apparent cause." she explained, "There was no real danger in Peggy's room, but your mind made it seem like it was." The way she sounded when she explained the term was bordering on medical, like she had done the research and was just spitting the facts back out. She was professional and serious, not putting any emotion behind the words she was saying.

It sounded like something that Steve had seen during the war. But no one ever talked about. It was swept under the rug, just like a lot of other things. Most of the soldiers he knew pretended they were fine, ignoring what was happening and just waiting for it to go away. They didn't want to come across as weak in the mind because that would mean they were weak in the body. It just wasn't something anyone talked about.

Agent Proctor noticed his hesitation and took in a breath. She broke eye contact with him, ducking her head down to write something down on her notepad. When she was finished, she looked back up at him, "Talk to me about how you felt after leaving Sunrise."

He relaxed slightly at the subject change; even if it was now socially acceptable to talk about such a thing as a panic attack, he didn't feel comfortable doing so. Shifting in his seat, he began to tell Agent Proctor about how he felt a little bit better after leaving Sunrise. There was no mention of what happened once he was back at the apartment, the guilt he felt or the sense of extreme loneliness. He wasn't quite ready to share that yet, but he was feeling a bit of the weight leave his shoulders as he talked about what happened at Sunrise.

At one point in their conversation, he noticed her stifling a yawn. He paused, getting her to look at him with raised eyebrows, silently wondering why he had stopped talking. Not responding right away, he glanced over his shoulder to look at the clock. It was practically the middle of the night. He hadn't realized how long he had been talking to her. At the sight of the time, a wave of exhaustion washed over him. He found himself yawning in reaction.

"I think that's enough for tonight." Agent Proctor's voice made him look back at her. She had caught his yawn. "We need something to talk about tomorrow, right?" She asked, trying to be casual. He nodded at her, running his hands over his thighs as she wrote something at the top of the page, then circled it.

She stood up from her seat, clipping the pen back into the notepad as she did so. He stood up as a reaction, not wanting to be impolite and stay sitting. She checked her phone, noticing the time as he had a moments earlier.

"Oh, it is really late." she quietly said, "You must be exhausted." She looked back up at him, meeting his eye.

"I'm okay." he lied. She eyed him before deciding to accept his response.

"I should get going." she moved on, stepping forward to the table where she had left her messenger bag. Steve followed, staying behind her and watching as she packed her things up.

"Thank you, for coming over." he thanked her, wanting to her to know that he was grateful that she had come over to talk to him.

"All in a day's work, Captain." she nodded at him as she picked up her messenger bag, letting it hang from her shoulder. She reached down to pick up the contract that was still unsigned, "Please sign this." she reminded him, "I know you don't really like SHIELD, but we are trying to help you."

"With the added benefit of being able to have me as an asset to use." Steve quipped back as a reaction. He paused, regretting his comment; he didn't know how she would react. A small amused smile peeked out as she pulled herself up straighter,

"Well, yes. We don't just do this out of the goodness of our hearts. We do want to get something out of this." He raised his eyebrows at her frankness before ducking his head down and breaking eye contact. "I expect it to be signed by the time I arrive tomorrow." she moved on, placing the paper back down on the table.

"Yes, ma'am." Steve nodded at her. She returned the nod and stepped away from the door. He followed her down the entryway to the door. She opened it and then turned to look at him,

"Get some rest." she advised before stepping out into the hallway, "I'll see you tomorrow morning."

"I will." he agreed with another nod, "Thank you, Agent." He bid her goodnight, waiting until she stepped away from the door to shut it.

Once it was closed, he moved to the kitchen area and went over to the window, looking down at the entrance to the apartment building. After waiting a moment, he caught sight of her walking out of the building. Her blazer was off and her hair was down. Once again, she leaned against the stairs to take off her heels. He smiled to himself at her actions, wondering if she knew he could see her. Probably not; if she did, she wouldn't be doing it.

He watched her walk away in the same direction she had previously walked. He noticed that her car was nowhere to be found, which meant she walked to the apartment. A beat too late, he realized he should have probably offered her to stay the night or at least offered to walk her home. But he didn't know.

The more time he spent with Agent Proctor, the more he was beginning to figure her out. She was still sort of confusing to him; she clearly had boundaries set to separate her professional life from her personal life, but some of her comments she made him feel like she wanted to be casual with him. Like she wanted him to like her. They would be spending a lot of time together so it was understandable as to why she wanted him to like her, but whenever she tried to be casual, it seemed awkward and a beat too late - like she didn't want to overstep with him.

Turning away from the window, he moved to the table to see that Agent Proctor had left a pen next to the contract. He stared at it for a moment, his eyes moving across the page as he read the contents again. He debated with himself, going back and forth between signing it and not signing it.

After a moment, he took in a deep breath and picked up the pen. He scribbled his signature across the bottom of the page and then let the pen drop next to the paper. Before he could dwell on it anymore, he turned away and went into his bedroom, beginning to get ready for bed.


	6. fancy mood ring

It was early, oh God, it was so early. That combined with the little sleep Q was able to get after her late night with Captain Rogers (about three hours) made for an interesting state of mind. She felt like she was moving through Jell-O. Her whole body ached and she knew it was because of all the physical activity she had done the day before. Not that it was even that much, she was just incredibly out of shape.

She had worked on less sleep though and she was determined to make it through her second day with Captain Rogers. In the light day to day schedule she had given him, it was set that she would meet him at his apartment at five in the morning, before the sun rose. While she was at his apartment for the second time the night before, she saw that the folders had been shuffled through and she hoped he had read the one containing the schedule. What she should've done was verbally confirmed it with him last night, but she...didn't. God, she wasn't very good at this. For as much time as she spent studying people, she wasn't very good at interacting with them. Some of them at least.

Before she was to meet with Captain Rogers, she had to pick up a few things from SHIELD. She needed a way to track his moods and reactions. His heart rate and blood pressure were important to monitor, but she was more concerned about his dopamine, norepinephrine and serotonin levels. Those affected his moods and reactions to what was going on. They were more important in making sure progress was being made. She knew that there was a way to do it: injecting a radioactive version of the neurotransmitter into his head and then viewing it via a PET scan. But that seemed like a lot of work and she wanted something that could tell her right then, during an event or a conversation, not hours later. She could stick wires to his head or take his blood every hour but that was exhausting and got in the way of having him live a normal life.

There was practically no one in the Triskelion when Q got there. There were a few agents and analysts around who were on active ops, but it hadn't hit the busy hours yet. She paid no mind to those that were there, wanting to only find one person. She had called Dawson on her walk home, interrupting his video game, and asked for his help. He grumbled about it being such short notice, but agreed to see what he could do.

When she got to his computer station, she found that it was empty. Blowing out a breath through her lips and making a raspberry noise, she turned around. She started to walk back to the elevator, pushing out of the Operations Control room and going down the hall. As she walked, someone fell into step next to her, matching her pace.

"Proctor." His voice was smooth and deep, but she didn't dare look over at him. Instead, she took in a breath and straightened up a bit. She really wasn't in the mood.

"Rumlow." she responded.

"You didn't answer my call last night." he continued, getting straight to why he was walking next to her.

"I was busy." she simply answered. He let out a small laugh.

"I stopped by your apartment too." That got her to stop walking. It woke her up a bit too, causing her to turn to look at him, meeting his eye. The corner of his mouth quirked up in a sly smile as she took in a deep breath through her nose.

Glancing around herself, she made sure the hall was empty before she grabbed Rumlow's arm. She shoved him back, making him walk backwards into the stairwell. For what she lacked in strength, she made up for in surprise. The door shut behind them and she continued to move them backward until his back hit the wall. He let out a chuckle, hands going to grab at her hips. She pushed them off of her and stepped back, brandishing a finger at him.

"You broke a rule." she hissed out at him. "Why do you think we have rules?"

"Because it turns you on." he easily responded with a smirk. She gave him an unamused look, arms going to cross over her chest. He was right and he knew that. They both did. "C'mon, Q, haven't you ever heard the saying rules are meant to be broken?" he asked as he pushed off against the wall and took a step towards her. She didn't find that funny, the unamused look turning serious.

"Listen, I'm sorry, baby." he smoothly said, changing his tone to one that was softer and apologetic. He reached out to place his hands on her hips, gently pulling her towards him, "I just knew you had a long day and probably would've liked to...relax." Q didn't respond, but didn't stop him from pulling her against his body. She kept her arms crossed over her chest as he made eye contact with her, eyebrows raising slightly. There was a beat as he waited for her to respond and she took in a breath before slumping her shoulders down.

"You shouldn't have just shown up at my apartment though. You know better." she mumbled, not having any more excuses. He grinned at her - knowing he was off the hook, but nodded in response.

"Won't happen again." he agreed, "But if there were some way you wanted to punish me for it…" he trailed off, eyebrows raising. Q scoffed, pushing back away from him and out of his grasp as she rolled her eyes.

"I have to go." she ended the conversation before it could continue further and go down the dirty route it was headed. They were at work for God's sake. It was one of her rules.

She stepped away from Rumlow, only to have him step toward her again. He let his eyes travel from her face down her body and then back up again, a smirk on his face. She raised her eyebrows at him, daring him to say something stupid.

"Tonight?" he asked.

"We'll see." she responded, turning away from him, "But, you did break a rule," she continued as she walked away to the door, "so maybe you need to learn what happens when you do." Rumlow raised his eyebrows at her, thinking it was something sexual, but she quickly backtracked, "Not like that." she awkwardly said, "I meant like, no sex." she explained, slicing her hand through the air. She used to be good with the sultry, dirty talk. But clearly, she had lost her touch. She let out a huff and quickly pushed the door open, stepping out into the hallway before she could say anything else or before he did.

It was just as empty as it was when she shoved Rumlow into the stairwell. He was smart enough to stay behind for a few moments so not to cause suspicion. She took that time to straighten herself out and step over to the elevator. Pressing her fingers against the down button, she waited for the elevator to get to her floor.

Once the doors opened, she stepped inside, calling out her destination, "Weapons." The doors shut as the elevator responded. She moved so that she was looking out of the giant glass windows, watching as the scenery went by as the elevator pulled her down. Her conversation with Rumlow threw her for a loop; she wasn't expecting him to be at SHIELD so early in the morning.

In her mind, their relationship was simple. It wasn't a relationship. It was just sex. Nothing more, nothing less. He was just a way for her to relax and blow off some steam. Some people went running, she had sex with a coworker.

Of course, it was strictly confidential. No one knew about it - not even Dawson. There were rules. Act professional around each other at work. Don't text unless it's a sext. No talk about work in the bedroom. No dates. No cuddling. Only call after midnight. Don't let emotions get involved; this wasn't a relationship. And most importantly: he wasn't to just show up at her apartment unannounced.

For almost a year, it had been working. There hadn't been any slip ups or almost getting caught - Q made sure of that. She wasn't about to have her relaxation technique be taken away; she knew there was no way she was going to find something like it again. She got hers, he got his and there was no pressure to make it into something more. They weren't necessarily friends, but they sure were benefits to each other.

It had started when both her and Rumlow were working together on an operation. He was leading the STRIKE Team while she was the one gathering intel for him. They had been stuck together, just the two of them, in one of the rooms on the Trends and Patterns level for hours, going over the mission and making sure everything was in place. She was stressed out, as she usually was during pre-ops, Rumlow took notice and decided to...help her relax.

At first, Q told herself that it was a one time thing. She couldn't risk losing her position at SHIELD because it was quite literally all that she had. It was her family, her friends, her job, all of it. And she wasn't about to put that at risk over a hookup. But, of course, it wasn't just a one time thing...or a two time thing...or even a fifteen time thing. It had developed and was now a constant part of her life - which she wasn't complaining about.

The elevator doors opened and she stepped out into the hallway. The Weapons level was split up into certain sections: general, technological, biological, chemical...etc. etc. Since it was still early, there wasn't a lot of action happening, but sometimes she could hear test trials being run from her office. She made her way to the technological wing of the Weapons level, hoping that Dawson was in one of the inner rooms.

She pushed open the door to the main area and spotted him in one of the small glass rooms. He was sitting in front of a table full of materials and tapping a reactor against whatever was in the clamp. He watched the computer screen, waiting to see the outcome. She waited until the results came up on the screen before she tapped her fingers on the door, getting his attention.

Dawson turned to look at her, goggles on his face. He pushed back from the table and got up to let her into the room. He already looked semi annoyed at her as he pushed his goggles up onto his head, pushing his hair out of his face as he did so. She raised her eyebrows at the expression, waiting for him to talk first,

"The least you could've done was bring me some breakfast." He grumbled at her, turning away and walking back over to the table.

"Yeah, I could've." she responded with a casual shrug. He gave her a look before returning his attention back to the table. He started to shuffle some things around on the table, moving what he had been working on aside to make room for what he had made her. As he did, Q looked around the room, noting the scribbles of different equations up on the glass in expo markers.

"Four hours, Q!" he suddenly raised his voice at her, making her jump at the sudden outburst. She looked over to see him holding up four fingers, "You gave me four hours!"

"Okay, it was a little more than four hours." she responded, motioning her hands down as she tried to calm him. He scoffed and rolled his eyes,

"Replicating a RFID scanner when I was thirteen was easier than this." he grumbled to himself as he returned his attention to the table to continue with his task. She ignored him, knowing he was just in a mood from being awake for such a long period of time. He would forgive her, eventually. But she probably could've helped the process with a breakfast sandwich or two.

"How was day one with Cap?" he asked after a moment. He had moved on from his frustration with her a bit faster than normal. She figured it was because his curiosity had gotten the best of him; they hadn't talked about her time with Captain Rogers and she knew he was itching to hear anything she could give him. There wasn't much she could because, even if she wasn't a doctor, she still was abiding by the patient/doctor confidentiality.

"Long." she responded with a sigh. She rubbed her hand over the side of her face, "I'm running on three hours of sleep. Barely."

"Yikes." he responded, clenching his jaw to make a face, "And you have to spend all day today with him?"

"And tomorrow." she nodded, turning to look at him, "And the next day, and the next day, and the next day…"

"Okay, I get it. Good Lord." Dawson waved her off, making her stop. She sighed again and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I really have no idea what I'm doing." she admitted, "I thought I did. I mean, I thought I planned for everything and yet I forgot even the simplest things." She gestured to where he was fiddling with the gadget, indicating that she meant the mood monitor.

"Lot more than just a superhero's babysitter, huh?" he commented back, eyes on the gadget he had come up with.

"So much more." she made her eyes wide, knowing it didn't even begin to cover it, "I know he doesn't like me. And it's just going to make it harder to help him."

"So make him like you." he responded back as if it were so simple.

"How? I already did one thing I wasn't supposed to - "

"Oh no." he glanced over at her, mocking her as he cut her off, "Is Rebel Q making an appearance? So early in on an assignment?" he let out a low whistle and shook his head, returning his attention to the gadget.

"No. No." she shook her head, the second no a bit more forceful, "I just...want him to like me." She ended with a casual shrug, "But also respect me as a professional." She made a face as she added on that last bit, moving her head around as she did so. Dawson scoffed in response.

"Can't have your cake and eat it too, Q." he reminded her. She sighed and moved her hands to rub over her face. He was right, she knew that. But there had to be a way for her to be both professional and casual around Captain Rogers.

Letting her hands drop from her face, she watched Dawson nimbly put the rest of the pieces in his gadget and then heard a ding as he turned it on. He proudly laughed to himself before looking over at her.

"It took me literally the past four hours, but your fancy mood ring - as you called it, is ready." he handed out what looked like the FitBit he had gotten her earlier in the year as a birthday present. She had never opened it, leaving it in her desk drawer with the intent to open it and use it, but just forgetting about it.

"Is this the FitBit you gave me?" she asked, holding up the device, "Did you go into my desk?"

"Uh, yes and yes." Dawson responded, glancing back over to her. Her mouth was opening to reprimand him but he swiftly cut her off, "And before you go all yelly on me about going into your office and desk without permission, let me remind you that you gave me less than five hours to make that." he gestured to the FitBit she was holding. Her jaw closed and her lips became pursed as she looked down at the FitBit, "Also I gave that to you and you don't even use it so technically it's still mine." he pointed out with a casual shrug.

"So what did you do?" Q asked, moving on. She was a little annoyed that he had hacked his way into her office without her knowledge and then proceeded to go through her desk until he found the FitBit. It wasn't like she kept anything criminal or embarrassing in there but it was the principle of the matter. She didn't go through his work computers.

"Modified it." he said in a duh tone. She fixed him with an unamused look; she knew that, she just wanted to know more, "I went in and screwed with the triple axis accelerometer and altimeter to make it so it didn't just count his steps and monitor his heart rate, but so that it could keep track of his dopamine and serotonin levels just by sensing his temperature, pulse and a whole lot of other things, but I'm gonna stop talking because your eyes are glazing over." he motioned to his eyes with his two fingers, waving them in front of his eyes before waving his fingers in front of her eyes. She blinked and pulled back from him, making a face as she did.

"Three hours, remember?" she mumbled, looking down at the FitBit.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." he scoffed out, turning back to the table to organize some of his things, "At least you got to sleep." he muttered out under his breath. Even though he couldn't see her, she fixed him with another unamused look.

"I took Cap's information from yesterday's medical assessment to use as a base." Dawson continued, getting back on track and turning his attention back to her, "Everything that's recorded will be transferred immediately to your computer's cloud server. All you have to do is just download the data and put it in your little graphs."

"They're not little." she mumbled to herself, defending the graphs she had started. They may not have had anything in them at the moment but they were going to be rather large after everything was said and done.

"And does it work?" she asked, making eye contact with him and making a hard motion with the FitBit. She just wanted to make sure he had tested it before giving it to her. The last thing she needed was it shocking Captain Rogers or not recording the data. He pulled an offended face, stepping back from her and looking away from her.

"Jesus, I'm offended you would even ask that. This isn't a third grade science fair."

"Exactly why I'm asking." she nodded at him, seeing the semi-disgusted and annoyed look on his face at the audacity of her question.

"Yes, it works." he scoffed out, going to pick up a screwdriver so he had something to play with. She nodded again, looking back down at the FitBit as he started fiddling with something else on the table.

"Thank you." she said after a moment of examining the FitBit. She made eye contact with Dawson, giving him a grateful smile, "Seriously, you just made my life a whole lot easier."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." he waved her off, ducking down to hide his proud smirk at the thanks. He took pride in his inventions, never really getting to make things as much as he used to since being recruited into the tech division of SHIELD, "You owe me, Proctor." he looked back up at her, pointing at her, "And not just a breakfast sandwich."

"You got it." she saluted him. Turning her hips to the side, she twisted away from him, reaching for the door, "I gotta get going. It's a busy day." Dawson nodded at her, twirling the screwdriver in between his fingers.

"Hey, try and get in a nap." he lifted his chin at her, and for a second she thought he was being genuine until he followed it up with: "He's like a hundred, I'm sure he'd love one of those." he smirked at his joke while she rolled her eyes.

"Bye, Dawson." she droned out. She yanked the door open and walked out of the small room, leaving him to work on whatever he was doing before she arrived.

Over the years they spent together, Q picked up on some of Dawson's qualities. While his first job was always the SHIELD project he was assigned to, he took pride in his individual projects, working on whatever new tech was on his mind. For as standoffish and frank as he was, it was mostly a way to protect himself. His sass and attitude were meant to be a way to intimate whoever was talking to him - since he was lacking greatly in size and physical strength. Although he was probably the most asshole-ish person she knew, deep down he was nothing more than another nerd just wanting to fit in.

Not that he ever showed that side of him; even though he was a SHIELD agent, he still dressed like a teenager: baggy jeans, hoodie and graphic tee underneath. How he managed to get away with it, she would never know. He wasn't a people person, wanting to stick to himself and not have to really interact with anyone - which was why she and him got along well. While he had spent most of his teenage years behind a computer screen, Q was off trying her best to piss people off. They both were forced to join SHIELD and had the same feelings as they grew within the division, slowly changing with each other. Both of them knew SHIELD was their second (and last) chance.

Q weaved her way out of the Weapons wing, heading for the elevator. She still had enough time to get to Captain Rogers' apartment and be early. The doors opened to reveal a very serious looking Fury. She straightened herself up at the sight of him, opening her mouth to greet him, only to be cut off by his direct order,

"My office. Now." His tone made it clear that she wasn't to argue. Which she wouldn't. She knew when and where to argue. And she certainly didn't want to do it in an elevator.

So she stepped into it, standing on the opposite side of him. She slipped the FitBit into her blazer pocket as the doors closed. The elevator ride was silent as the two rose up through the Triskelion.

Even though she didn't know what he wanted to talk to her about, she knew better than to speak until he spoke first. But the silence meant she was beginning to internally panic; what did he want to talk about? She sifted through what could possibly cause an early morning conversation with him and her stomach sank as she realized what it was probably about. Someone had seen her with Rumlow in the stairwell. They had gotten caught. And now she was going to get fired and be completely fucked in more ways than one.

Taking in a deep breath, Q followed Fury out of the elevator and down the hall to his office. Their footsteps may have been the only sound in the hall but she swore both of them could hear her panicked heart beat. She tried to come up with her excuses, reasonings as to why she and Rumlow were in the stairwell together. She could blame it on him - tell Fury Rumlow forced her to. She would save herself before she saved him. But it could backfire on her if Rumlow said anything different, or if he had already talked to Fury. If he had, then she was pretty much sunk.

"Wanna tell me why you brought Rogers on an unsanctioned visit to Sunrise yesterday?" Fury broke the silence and shook her out of her internal debate as she shut the office door behind her.

"I'm sorry?" she asked back. She heard him, but she was a little thrown off by the question. She was so worried about her sex-ationship with Rumlow being exposed, she wasn't prepared for what Fury actually asked her.

"You brought Rogers to visit Agent Carter yesterday afternoon." he reworded his question into a statement, "He wasn't supposed to see her until next week." She swallowed back her relief and clasped her hands in front of her, still standing up as straight as a board.

"Sir, I moved up the visitation date based on my findings from our initial assessment. It was clear to me that Captain Rogers' visit with Peggy would be helpful in speeding up his transition to becoming a SHIELD asset." she repeated what she had told Captain Rogers a few hours earlier. She held eye contact with Fury, waiting for him to refute or accept what she had said. There was a pause as he considered what she told him before he nodded. He glanced back down to the papers on his desk, using his finger to drag along the rest of the document.

"Then you took him to a deli." he looked up at her, hand picking up a photo as he did so. He flipped it over to show her a picture from a traffic camera of her and Captain Rogers. She took in a breath, gaze flicking from the photo to Fury's eye. He didn't look mad, but he didn't look happy.

"Is this a debrief?" she asked, unsure where he was going with his statements. They weren't supposed to have one until the following week after there was some substance to talk about. But she was beginning to feel like she was in trouble for taking Captain Rogers out in public - something she had worried about in the moment but then came to terms with; he needed to get outside and experience the world.

"No, I'm just curious as to why you took Rogers to a deli." he let the picture drop as he looked back down at his desk. Q couldn't help but make a face at the ridiculous sounding question,

"Because he hadn't eaten in over twenty-four hours." Fury pulled the corners of his mouth down and nodded, looking back at the picture. He let it drop to the desk, ignoring her squinty eyed look at him as she tried to understand what he was getting at.

"And you didn't think to bring along some sort of back up?" he asked, looking back at her. "You were with one of SHIELD's greatest assets." She pulled her chin back as she figured out what he meant.

"Wait, are you trying to tell me that I shouldn't take Captain Rogers out in public?" she asked, holding up her hand as she put two and two together. "Because if so, I have to ask why." she continued with her opinion, "My job is to make sure he is adjusting properly to the new world and I can't very well do that if we can't leave his apartment."

"I'm saying precautions need to be taken." he seriously answered her. He shifted his weight as he made eye contact with her, "People will recognize him."

"So have Agent Twenty-One," she used Dawson's title, "work out the kinks in the Photostatic Veil so that Captain Rogers can go out in public without being recognized." she paused, already wanting to backtrack her answer. It was quick and reactionary and she forgot she was dealing with Captain Rogers face to face, not behind a computer screen like usual, "But if you're asking me, that would cause more harm than good."

"Good thing I'm not asking you." he quipped back. He moved to sit down behind his desk and Q stepped up closer, placing her hands on his desk. She still kept her posture straight, wanting to seem professional, but powerful, "Contact Agent Twenty-One, have him come up with a face for the Photostatic Veil." At his order, she shook her head, ready to debate it.

"Sir. I understand that it might be safer to have him wear a Photostatic Veil, but that will cause more psychological damage." she started, starting to talk out of her ass; she didn't know the science behind her statement, but she was beginning to know her subject, "He's already struggling with coming to terms with being himself in this new world, we can not put the added pressure of having to hide himself from the public. He needs to relearn how to live as Steve Rogers." she made her case for Captain Rogers, pausing for a moment before continuing with, "Because of New York, the world knows that Captain America is alive. There's no reason for us to Clark Kent this situation." she was referring to the Superman/Clark Kent comic book storyline where they were two separate people. That wasn't the case when it came to Captain Rogers; everyone knew that Captain America and he were one and the same.

"I don't understand that reference, Agent Proctor and, frankly, I don't care." Fury sighed out, raising his eyebrows.

"You know I'm right." she pushed, rolling her hand up and curling her fingers up to make a fist against the desk. She leaned forward slightly, wanting to make her point clear and to show that she had some sort of upper hand, "If we make him put on a mask every time he leaves the apartment, it will slowly create an identity issue which will be detrimental in his progress to becoming a SHIELD asset." She didn't want to force Captain Rogers to put on a mask every time he had to go out in public. He already had enough to worry about, including how he was still having a hard time separating himself from Captain America. It was something she had garnered after the day previous that they had spent together. The way he reacted to certain things or didn't understand some things - there was a disassociation between who he was and who was Captain America.

There was a pause as Fury turned over her argument. She held a steady gaze with his eye, making sure that he was the one to look away first. Once he did, it was her way of knowing that she had won. She pulled herself up a bit straighter, taking her hands off his desk and letting them clasp in front of her.

"Stick to the schedule, Proctor." he seriously said, brandishing a finger at her as he did so. "No more unauthorized trips." She nodded once, a victorious smile breaking out across her face in reaction. She knew she could toe the line with his order, twist it to work in her favor just like she did with visiting Peggy.

"Yes, sir." He leaned back in his chair, turning it to the side as he did.

"And wipe that look off your face." he added on, "No one likes a sore winner."

"Understood." she dropped her head down, forcing the smile off of her face. Even if he hadn't straight up told her that they weren't going to be using the Photostatic Veil, she knew that he was agreeing with her. She was allowed to go out with Captain Rogers in public - obviously she would still be careful with her asset, making sure it was during the early hours or late evening until more time progressed and he became more comfortable. But it was still a win and if worse came to worse, she would just make him wear a hat.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Fury asked after a moment. She looked back up at him to see he was giving her a look. Her eyes darted to the clock on the wall and she noticed the time. She needed to meet with Captain Rogers to start their second day together.

"Right, yes." she bobbed her head in a nod and pointed at him with her hands still clasped together, "Have a good day, sir." He hummed in response and she took that as her exit cue.

Quickly exiting the office, Q relaxed once the door had shut behind her. She let out a small sigh of relief and let a smile come over her face. She respected Fury; he was the one who recruited her. She knew that his word was final. So she never truly defied his orders just...worked her way around them if she needed to. She never could fully shake her rebellious tendencies. But maybe she could learn to be grateful for them; they did land her in a SHIELD recruit classroom. She learned that if she wanted to get away with things, she needed to act like she knew what she was talking about. And most times it worked.

This included the conversation she just had with him - getting out of making Captain Rogers wear the Photostatic Veil. Based on years of studying people and analyzing their actions, she found that most times people were unaware of the person walking by them or standing next to them. Sure they would notice them, but they wouldn't notice them. They would just clock them and continue on. Aware but unaware. And even though Captain Rogers was a national hero - the World's Greatest Soldier, he looked incredibly average otherwise. Yes, he was tall and muscular, but he carried himself in a rather shy and closed off manner. He didn't draw attention to himself. Most people wouldn't be able to pick him out in a crowd.

The Veil was something that was more for SHIELD's sake than for his. Even though Q was incredibly loyal to SHIELD, sometimes she was reminded just how selfish the division could be. They thought more about self preservation rather than their assets or people's well beings, doing things under the guise of "for the greater good" even if it wasn't so good. And soon, Q would find herself going against that motto, for the one and only Captain Rogers.


	7. a routine

He hadn't slept well. Actually, he wasn't even sure if he had really fell asleep. It felt like he had taken tiny naps until he got sick of lying in the bed, so he got up. The bed was firmer than the one he had in New York, but still softer than he was used to. He wouldn't give up on it so quick though; he figured all he needed to do was break it in.

But he couldn't just lie around anymore. There was energy flowing through his body - either nervous or regular energy, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that he needed to get rid of it. A part of him hoped that getting rid of it would tire him out, let him fall asleep on the mattress without being uncomfortable.

Steve dressed himself in the workout clothes he had pulled from the dresser drawer that seemed to be specifically for running and exercising. There were three different pairs of sneakers in his closet and he took a moment to study them before choosing a random pair. It wasn't surprising that they fit perfectly. Everything did.

As he walked to the door, he paused, noticing the SHIELD papers that lay semi scattered around the table. At the sight of them, reality came crashing back down. He wasn't on his own anymore, left to his own devices. He was once again a soldier. Maybe not in the traditional sense, but he had to follow orders. He couldn't just go out on his own. Agent Proctor needed to be with him.

He debated with himself for a moment; he wasn't sure when she was going to show up at his apartment. They never talked about the schedule for the second day - or any day really. He could go on his run and be reprimanded after the fact, then claim he didn't know. Cause technically, he didn't. But if she were to show up while he was out on his run, it could cause major problems for both of them. He would've disappeared and she would've gotten in trouble for letting him go. It was only the second day of really being SHIELD's asset and he already hated it.

He wasn't sure when his feelings towards SHIELD changed - maybe they had always been there, just under the surface. He had worked with the division to protect New York from aliens (which was still baffling to him) because he was under the impression that he knew what SHIELD was. They had helped him, defrosted him and brought him back to the world. After working hand in hand with them, side by side, he learned that he never really was side by side with them. Instead he was below them, someone they owned and could use. A soldier.

For a while, he did as they asked, thinking that it would be good to be close to SHIELD in case of another attack and work his way up. But he never did typical soldier things. He was used, again, for his Captain America name - the same way the senator used him all those years ago to sell bonds, but instead of bonds, he was filming public service announcements for high schools. He was a circus monkey once more.

The more he learned about SHIELD, the more he grew to hate it and started to distance himself from the division. It wasn't like he ever made any promises to them before. He was still his own person, even if he wasn't quite sure who he was without the uniform. Now, he was right back in the hands of the same people who turned him into a walking billboard. And this time, it was official.

Giving into his rebellious side, he decided to just go on his run and face the consequences later. It was always easier to ask for forgiveness than it was to ask for permission. He moved toward the door, opening it to find Agent Proctor standing on the other side, fist up and poised as if she was about to knock. Her eyes flicked up to meet his and a startled look came over her face, but disappeared as quickly as it appeared. He quickly took in her outfit, seeing that she was dressed in another dark pantsuit, but this time rubber soled shoes replaced her kitten heels. Her hair was pulled back in the same hairdo as it was the day before, but there were bags under her eyes from lack of sleep. The warm smile, the one that didn't quite reach her eyes, took its place as she greeted him.

"Good morning, Captain."

"Agent Proctor." Steve responded with a small nod, "Wasn't expecting you so early."

"Oh," Her brow furrowed a bit but only for a quick moment. Not in confusion, but in slight frustration. He wasn't sure why she was frustrated with his answer; he didn't know she would come so early, "There is a schedule inside one of the files - may I?" she asked, gesturing to the inside of the apartment. He hesitated for a moment before nodding and stepping aside. She walked past him into his apartment.

Shutting the door behind her, he turned to follow her back into his apartment. He was so close to getting out, to having some time to himself. He watched her go to the table and shuffle through some of the papers. Once she found what she was looking for, she turned around to show him.

"Right here." She stepped over to him, eyes down on the paper. She stood next to him, making sure there was a respectable amount of space between them, "It details your day to day for the next few weeks until we get into a rhythm. Things can be moved around as we see fit." He glanced over the paper she was holding out to him, seeing how there was in fact a daily schedule neatly typed out. He gently took it from her, stepping away so he could flip through it.

It was pretty straightforward. The schedule blocked out his day, from the moment he woke up until the moment he went to sleep. The days started early, but ended early as well. He saw there were specific times for his workouts and his meetings with Agent Proctor. There was wiggle room for unplanned activities, which was noted on the actual schedule, but mostly everything had been planned out.

"Thank you for signing this." Her voice got his attention. He turned back around to see her holding up the SHIELD contract he had signed the night before. He gave her a nod and watched her slip it into her messenger bag.

"Any questions?" she asked, taking a step forward but still maintaining a respectable distance. She lifted her chin to motion to the schedule. His eyes shifted back to the paper and he pulled the corners of his mouth down as he shook his head.

"Looks pretty straightforward." he answered her, lifting his head to make eye contact with her once more. She gave him a small smile and nodded. For a moment, her eyes moved from his face to take in what he was wearing before returning to meet his gaze.

"About to go on a run?" she asked, raising her eyebrows at him. He looked down at himself, having temporarily forgot that he was dressed in workout gear. Picking his head back up, he saw she was expectantly waiting for him to answer her.

"I was." he sighed out, figuring he might as well go with the truth. She nodded to herself, looking around the apartment before looking back at him.

"Well, then let's go." she motioned with her arms, gesturing for him to go for the door. He pulled down the corners of his mouth, nodding at her statement. Of course she would have to go with him, but she didn't seem upset about it. Almost like it was supposed to happen - a run was written in on his schedule, just later in the day. Seemed like they were already adjusting it.

Steve moved for the door, hearing Agent Proctor behind him. They walked out of the apartment and he locked the door with his keys before slipping them into his hoodie pocket. He walked down the stairs in front of her, beginning to feel like she was his shadow - constantly following behind him.

Once outside, she started to walk one way while he walked the other way. Both of them noticed and then paused, looking at each other for a moment. He was just going to run around the neighborhood. She seemed to realize this and quickly went to shut down his idea,

"Can't have you getting lost, can we?" she asked, gesturing to where her car was parked. He took in a breath and shook his head, agreeing with her. It became clear that she had different plans on where he was to run - he just hoped it was nowhere near SHIELD. He stepped over to where she was, ducking into the passenger seat of her car. She shut his door and he quickly moved over to open her door as she walked around the front.

She buckled herself in and started up the car. He noticed that the music coming out of the speakers was something much different than the first time he had been in her car. It was soft and had actual instruments in the background. It was something familiar…

"Is this Hoagy Carmichael?" he asked, pointing to the radio as she drove.

"It is." she answered and he glanced over to see a semi proud look on her face. It seemed she did take a note of what he had told her the day before. He made an impressed noise and sat back in seat.

For a minute, the two listened to the song in silence. It had been a long while since he had heard it last. The last time he heard was at some dance lounge that Bucky had dragged him to on some double date that didn't end well for Steve. He sat at the table, watching as Bucky dipped and spun his date while his date was talking with some other guy.

"How did you sleep?" Agent Proctor's voice pulled him from his thoughts. He blinked, remembering where he was. Those days were long, long gone.

"Fine." he answered her with a firm nod.

"Good." she responded, not pushing any further. He figured they would just talk about it later in the morning.

"How about you?" he asked, wanting to be polite. He may not have liked who she was associated with, but he wasn't raised to be rude. Looking over to her, he noticed she looked a little thrown off by the question, like she wasn't expecting him to ask her something in response.

"Fine." she settled on, repeating his answer back to him, but adding in a slight shrug.

"Good." he repeated her, raising his eyebrows a bit. He watched her roll her hands over the steering wheel, tightening them and then loosening her grip moments later. She was lying, he knew that from the bags under her eyes, but it was only fair considering he had lied to her moments before.

The drive was short, about fifteen minutes, and soon the car was pulling over to the side of the road. She put the car in park and then got out, pulling her messenger bag with her. Steve followed suit, waiting for her on the sidewalk. He realized they were at the National Mall, behind the Capitol building. In the distance he could see the Triskelion sticking out of the middle of the Potomac on some sort of island.

"Is this okay?" she asked, stepping up next to him. "Figured it was a simple circle." she continued, explaining her decision.

"It's fine." he answered her, already mapping out the route in his mind.

They walked away from her car, over to a clearing of grass. It was still early. The sun wasn't even rising yet. As they got to the clearing of grass, Agent Proctor reached into her messenger bag. She stopped walking and turned to show him what was in her hand. It was a small device that looked sort of like a wristwatch, except the face was replaced with a screen.

"May I?" she politely asked, gesturing to his left hand with her free hand. He responded, holding his arm out to her. She gently took his wrist in her free hand, her skin touching his.

Sure they had shook hands before, but this felt more intimate. He noticed how small her palm was, but how skinny and long her fingers were. They looked bony and older than she was - like they had done a lot. But her skin was soft and he watched as she deftly clasped the device onto his wrist, adjusting the band so that it fit snugly around his wrist.

"That okay?" she asked, glancing up at him with raised eyebrows.

"Yes." he answered, getting her to drop her hands from his wrist. He turned his wrist over, wanting to see the screen. The motion made the screen light up with the time and a message that rolled across: Good morning, Captain Rogers. He moved his wrist back so the screen was out of view and then repeated the motion, having the screen light up again. He repeated the motion a few more times, getting used to the screen lighting back up. It amused him a bit and he had to force himself to listen to what Agent Proctor was saying.

"It'll monitor your heart rate, your calorie intake and output...basically everything that goes on in your body." she explained the science watch to him, "Oh, and it also counts your steps and tells the time." she added on as if it were something special.

"Okay." He blinked, taking it in as he used his other hand to swipe through the screens. It showed him exactly what she had said it would and soon he was back on the main screen. He looked back at her, not really knowing what else to say.

"I'll be sitting on one of the benches." she continued, "Just make sure I can see you, ok, Captain? For both of our sakes." He nodded at her request. He took off his hoodie and went to tie it around his waist, only to have her stop him. She took it from him, slipping it through the space of her messenger bag. They stood there for a moment, neither one of them sure what to do next. Then, she rocked back on her heels, motioning with her arm and indicating that he could go.

He didn't have to be told twice. He walked away from her, going to the sidewalk where he figured he would start. He kept walking for a moment before picking up his pace and then breaking out into an easy jog. As he went, his pace picked up and soon he was running - not at full speed, but at a comfortable one.

The route was relatively easy; it was mostly flat. He glanced over to see Agent Proctor sitting down on one of the benches, placing her messenger bag on the space next to her. She gathered her dark waves up and then moved them so they were behind her shoulders. He watched her go into her bag for something and then pull out a yellow book and a pen. He wasn't able to see what kind of book it was since he had passed her and couldn't very well turn his neck all the way around to see it.

Running had gotten a hell of a lot easier ever since the serum injection. Before, he could barely walk fast without needing to take one of his asthma cigarettes. He had tried running and almost collapsed - whether from his legs giving out or his back, he wasn't sure. So he didn't do it unless he had to.

Once the serum kicked in, he found that he could run and he could run fast. Faster than cars could go. It took him a moment to get used to it because he hadn't run in such a long time. That, combined with the extra muscle mass he had on his body made him feel unbalanced. He got used to it, used to running. It was helpful in chasing down the bad guys or catching up with those trying to get away. But he was always expecting his legs to give out again or for his lungs to start tightening up the way they did before an asthma attack.

Nothing like that ever happened. He ran like it was a natural thing for him to do. In fact, after the serum, everything that used to be hard for him suddenly became very easy for him.

The sun rose as Steve ran his route. He could see Agent Proctor from where he was, but that was only because of the serum. He doubted that she could see him from where she was sitting. Luckily, the route was flat and there weren't that many buildings in their way and surely she would understand that he had to go around one of the bigger ones, disappearing from view for a moment. Even so, he picked up his pace a bit to loop around it a bit faster, coming out and down on the other side. He passed by different memorials and statues as he continued down the opposite side he had run up. They were from different wars and battles, honoring past presidents and events.

He slowed as he came across one specifically. The plaque read that it was the World War II Memorial. He stopped in front of it, taking in a breath as his body registered that he had stopped and adjusted his breathing pattern to slow his heart down. He placed his hands on his hips, looking around the memorial and squinting his eyes a bit out of habit (his vision used to be terrible before the serum)

The memorial consisted of fifty six granite pillars that were arranged in a semicircle around the plaza. On each end were massive arches that had Atlantic and Pacific inscribed at the top. As Steve began to walk around the plaza, he noticed that the pillars were inscribed with one of the states. In the center, there was an oval shaped, shallow pool that had fountains spitting water back into the pool.

While walking around the memorial, he noticed that next to the Pennsylvania pillar there was something etched into the stone. Getting close, he saw that it was a little cartoon of a bald man with a long nose and the words Kilroy Was Here next to it. He let his fingers trail over the engraving, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. He remembered how he and the men would draw the little cartoon wherever they were stationed. Bucky was rather fond of doing it on the bunks or whenever they took control of a Hydra camp. It started as a fun inside joke for them; with all the tragedy and violence they were experiencing, they took their laughs where they could get them. Comfort and a little bit of rebellion. Then it became one that represented the American Army's presence and protection - a warning and a reminder.

Moving on from the Kilroy cartoon, he walked around the semicircle, seeing how there was a story unfolding. It began with a man getting his physical exams, taking the oath and then being issued military gear. The story continued with a combat scene, burying the dead and ending it in a homecoming scene. Steve felt a pang of pain shoot through his heart as he took in the story. It was too realistic, all of it. It was his life as a soldier, mapped out in stone columns for the world to remember just as he did.

Swallowing back the lump in his throat, he turned around, not wanting to see it anymore. Instead, a wall of stars came into his line of sight. He stepped over to it, reading the plaque in by it. It was called the Freedom Wall and it had 4,048 gold stars, each representing a hundred Americans who died in the war. In front of the wall was a message: "Here we mark the price of freedom." The same pang went through his heart as he took in all of the stars on the wall. There weren't any names associated with the stars, but Steve knew one of them was for Bucky. His stomach twisted up as he remembered that day on the train, the explosion, how Bucky was tossed out the side, Bucky holding on for dear life, how Steve couldn't save him...

Squeezing his eyes shut, Steve ducked his head down, trying to control his breathing. His chest tightened up and his stomach twisted as the feeling of guilt returned once more. He should be a star on that wall, right next to Bucky's. He pressed his hand against the wall, letting his weight fall on his hand.

He tried to calm himself down, taking in a few deep breaths and then slowly letting them out. He kept his eyes closed, waiting for the moment to pass. There was so much going on inside his head. To some, the memorial might've been a reminder of the brave, but to him it was nothing more than a painful reminder.

Letting out one more slow breath, he lifted his head up to look at the stars. His eyes went to one up at the top, in the middle. He decided that it would be the star that represented Bucky's sacrifice. It gave him a little sense of comfort, knowing that Bucky had his own star, even if no one else knew about it.

He had had enough at the World War II Memorial, he stepped off of the plaza, walking away from it. It was then that he decided he hated the memorial. It wasn't a true reflection of his friends and the battle they fought. Instead, the monument glorified it. He walked for a bit before picking up his pace and then settling back into the one he had before he stopped at the memorial. He tried to run away from the guilt that was creeping back in, not wanting it to take over.

And he convinced himself that it worked; as he got further away from the memorial, the feeling dissipated. In the future, he would need to adjust his route so that he didn't run past the memorial. It brought back feelings that he wasn't quite ready to deal with yet and would just continue to shove down until he died, like he was taught to.

Agent Proctor was getting closer and closer as he ran toward her. He could see the cover of the book, seeing the word SUDOKU typed across the center in big font. The word was unfamiliar, but underneath was a picture that he figured described what was in the book. It was a partially completed grid with digits from one to nine. It seemed to be a puzzle book. He didn't understand the concept or how it could be difficult - wouldn't you just fill in the numbers until all the boxes were full? but filed it away as something he would have to find out the answer to.

His pace slowed as he got closer to her and he finished his run a few feet away from her, walking up to her so that he didn't scare her. She looked over at him, giving him that smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. He placed his hands on his hips as he walked over to her and she closed her book, grabbing her messenger bag as she stood up.

"All finished?" she asked, looking at the watch on her wrist. Her watch was just a normal watch, not a fancy science watch like his.

"I think so." he responded with a nod. He wasn't tired or winded and could definitely do another lap, but he wasn't sure how far he had actually run. Twisting his wrist, he made the screen of his science watch light up to show him the time. It had been about a half an hour since he started. The sun was up and people were starting to come around.

"How long was my run?" he asked.

"About eight miles." she responded, going into her bag and exchanging her book for her yellow notepad. He watched her scribble something down, then move her hand around before circling her answer, "So you ran about a three minute mile." she flipped the notepad around to show him, "Your watch will show all this too, if you ever go on a run without me." She put the notepad back in her bag and handed him his hoodie, which he slipped on, but left unzipped.

"Am I allowed to go on runs without you, Agent?" he asked, a bit surprised (but also wary) at her statement.

"Eventually." she responded, twisting her mouth to the side in what he was beginning to figure out was her way of trying not to smile. "Hungry?" He nodded in response, getting her to turn and walk away from him. He followed her, hands on his hips as he looked around the mall, watching as people started their day.

But it was still early enough that the diner Agent Proctor took him to was relatively empty. There were a few patrons: an elderly man sitting at the bar, a couple of eager looking college aged boys in suits in one of the booths, and a young woman with her son in another. Agent Proctor led him to a booth in the back corner, pulling off her messenger bag and putting it in the booth before she slid in. He took the other side, sitting down across from her. She adjusted the table, pulling it towards her so he had more room.

"Morning, you two." The waitress greeted them, her gum snapping as she talked, "Coffee?" she asked, even though she had just set down two waters for them.

"I'm okay." Agent Proctor waved away the offer and looked to him with raised eyebrows. He looked away from her, looking up at the waitress,

"Uh, yes, please." he politely answered her. He had never had coffee until he was defrosted. It was nice and warm and tasted good with a little bit of sugar. She nodded at him before walking off.

He turned his attention back to Agent Proctor, seeing how she laid her arms on the table, but still kept her posture straight. She gave him a small smile and then reached over to grab the menus from where they were stashed behind the napkin holder. He took one from her, looking it over as she did the same.

As he looked over the menu, he realized he wasn't actually that hungry. He knew he needed to eat though; the soldier serum made his metabolism burn at an extremely fast pace. He needed to eat more calories than he ever had before. Especially after a run.

Peering over his menu, he met Agent Proctor's eyes. At their eye contact, her eyes immediately went back down to look at the menu, cheeks going red. An amused smile came over his face and he was glad he was holding the menu up high enough that it covered his smile. He half expected her to stare back at him and hold his gaze like she usually did, but he had caught her off guard. He was beginning to like the moments where she acted less like a SHIELD agent and more like a regular person. Every time it happened, it made her a little more human and made him feel a little more comfortable.

The waitress came back with his coffee and a few creamers for him. She pulled out her little notebook and asked if they were ready to order. Steve looked to Agent Proctor, gesturing for her to go first.

"I'll have the Lucky Charms." she ordered her meal with a warm smile. His brow furrowed a bit at the name, he knew it was cereal - he had seen it in the grocery stores, but he remembered the box being colorful and bright. Something that seemed to be for children, not SHIELD agents.

"What about you, hon?" The waitress asked him, getting his attention.

"I'll just have the scrambled eggs and toast." he ordered. The waitress nodded at him as she took down his order then turned away from the table, walking away.

Once again, the two were left by themselves. A silence fell over the table as Steve looked around himself. Agent Proctor watched him, obviously over the small embarrassment she had moments before. After a moment, she reached into her messenger bag and pulled out another small device - but this one he recognized. It was a recorder. He had seen them on the SHIELD Helicarrier. He watched her press a button and a corresponding red light come on. She set it off to the side, but still close enough to catch whatever either of them said.

"How was your run?" she asked him, reaching back into her bag and pulling out her phone.

"Good." he simply answered her with a nod. She nodded back at him and set her phone on the table, facedown. Then she rested her arms on the table and looked at him expectantly. She wanted more than just a single word answer, he knew that. It was still awkward to start these types of talks she so enjoyed having with him. Especially in such a public place.

"What was the book you were reading?" he asked, changing the subject. Her brow furrowed at the question, not in confusion at the question, but because she obviously didn't expect him to ask her something.

"Oh, uhm," she paused as she went into her messenger bag. She pulled out the same yellow book he had seen her reading during his run. Placing it on the table, she twisted it around so that he could read the cover. "It's a sudoku book and I wasn't reading it." she explained opening up the book to show him what was on the pages. It was the same thing that was on the cover: the same grid with digits so that each column, each row, and each of the nine subgrids that composed the grid contained digits. But unlike the cover, the boxes were all filled in with different numbers, leaving no spaces.

"Have you ever tried one?" she asked.

"No." he responded with a slight shake of his head, still trying to figure out the concept of the puzzle book. She leaned forward a bit so that she could flip through the completed pages, landing on one that wasn't finished - the one she was probably working on while he ran.

"It's a puzzle." she explained, "You have to fill in one of these boxes," she placed her finger on the edge of one of the nine main boxes, "with numbers from one to nine." Her finger moved around the smaller cubes inside the box, "Each box has to be filled with all nine numbers, but the same number can't appear twice in the same row, column, or any of the nine subregions of the playing board." Her finger moved across the page as she explained the process. "So I can't put a six here," her finger moved to an empty space, "because there's a six here." she slid her finger down to where there was another six in the same column. Steve studied the board for a moment, realizing it was a lot harder than he originally thought.

"Here ya go, you two." The waitress interrupted them. Agent Proctor leaned back in her seat, closing the book and making room for her to put down the empty bowl, small box of cereal and the glass of milk in front of her. Then she placed his plate down in front of him, who thanked her with a nod.

"Anything else I can get for ya?" she asked them. Agent Proctor looked over to him, silently asking if he needed anything else. He shook his head and looked down at his plate, letting her answer.

"No, thank you." Agent Proctor said. The waitress left without another word, leaving them to their own devices.

Steve watched as Agent Proctor opened up her box of cereal. He was right about the box - it was the colorful one that was meant more for kids than adults. She dumped the box into the bowl, checking inside to make sure she had gotten it all out. Then she took the small glass of milk the waitress had given her and poured it around the cereal. She only used half the cup before setting it down and picking up her spoon. She dipped her spoon into the bowl, mixing the cereal and milk together for a moment as she looked back at him.

"Not hungry anymore?" she asked, noticing how he had yet to touch his food. He looked down at his plate - it looked a lot less appetizing than her colorful cereal. But it still looked a hell of a lot better than any of the food he used to eat back in the day.

Instead of verbally responding, he picked up his fork and began to eat his breakfast. As he did, he felt Agent Proctor's eyes on him for the first couple of bites. They settled into a comfortable silence of eating their meals and he found himself glancing over to the Sudoku book that was still resting on the table. He was curious about it; he had never done a puzzle like that before and it seemed that she was something she enjoyed doing if she had a whole book full of them.

"Do you want to try one?" her voice got his attention. He looked back at her to see her point her spoon at the book, "One of the puzzles?" she clarified.

"If that's okay." He wouldn't be opposed to it. It would give him something to do. Keep his brain occupied so it didn't drift to the bad place, the place where all the memories he tried so hard to forget stayed. She nodded at him, placing her spoon down in her bowl and reaching for the book.

Opening it up, she flipped through a few pages before settling on one. In one swift motion, she ripped out the page in the book and handed it out to him. He eyed it for a moment, not expecting her to just rip a page out of her book. He didn't want her book to be ruined, but she looked unfazed by her action.

"Thank you, Agent." He took the page from her and folded it up, putting it in his hoodie pocket with his keys. She nodded at him and then went back to eating her cereal. He was grateful that she didn't try and start another one of her Talks with him.

A few minutes later, someone approached their table. It wasn't the waitress, but the elderly man who had been sitting at the bar. When he got to their table, Agent Proctor looked up and immediately became alert, getting Steve's attention. He followed her gaze to see the elderly man standing above them, looking down at Steve.

"I don't mean to interrupt your meal," he started, leaning on his cane, "I just wanted to come over and thank you for your sacrifice, sir." he said to Steve, reaching out with his hand. He moved out of his booth, standing up and making the elderly man step back to accommodate him. Steve firmly shook the man's hand,

"Well, it wasn't just me." He tried to be modest, thinking back to the World War II Memorial. The elderly man chuckled and shook his head.

"You saved the world, sir."

"I was just doing my job." Steve responded with a slight shake of his head. The elderly man nodded at him and gave him a warm smile.

"Thank you." he said again, "I'll let you get back to your meal."

"Have a good day." Steve bid the elderly man goodbye as he walked away from the table. After he left, Steve sat back down in the booth. He noticed Agent Proctor's eyes on him, but didn't dare meet them.

After he had been defrosted, very few people recognized him. Too much time had passed since the time he crashed and when he came back. It was a weird feeling, to walk around and not have people stop him on the street like they had back in his day. But it was also a nice feeling, the feeling of anonymity. He could be himself, keep to himself and not worry about what he was doing and who would see it.

Then the attack on New York happened. People saw his face again, remembered the story. He began to be recognized once more. It happened more often in the first few months after the attack, but the excitement slowly died down. Mostly because he stopped going out during peak hours, instead going out in the early hours of the morning or late at night.

Every once in a while someone would recognize him. Like the elderly man. They would thank him for his service and then most times ask for a picture. He was nothing more than an icon to them, forgetting that he was also a real person.

"You okay, Captain?" Agent Proctor's voice pulled him from his thoughts. He finally met her curious eyes, noticing how they looked a lot softer than usual. Not like she was trying to intimidate him but like she was trying to understand. He looked away from her, taking in a breath as he did.

"Say what's in your head." she prompted him.

"I just...am not used to people recognizing me." he admitted, knowing it was a half truth. He wasn't used to it. He never would be. She nodded at him, giving him an understanding smile.

"Do you like when people recognize you?" she asked.

"I don't know." he paused, "Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don't." He realized it was the truth. It depended on when and where they recognized him, who they were and what they did.

"Because it stirs up some memories." she stated, like she already knew that it did. She tilted her head toward where the elderly man had been standing, "Like when he thanked you for your sacrifice." she reminded him, emphasizing how the man made it seem like Steve had done all the work - when in reality it had been a whole team.

"I may have made some sacrifices back then, but I didn't give up as much as others did." Steve responded. She continued to hold eye contact with him, waiting for him to continue, "There's a memorial out there," he started, turning his head away from her to look out the window, "that's dedicated to the people who gave their lives in World War II." he paused for a moment, remembering the wall. The feeling of guilt returned as he looked back at her, "I still have my life." he seriously said.

Before Agent Proctor could respond to what he said, the waitress came back, dispelling the serious cloud that had rolled over their table. Both of them adopted a more relaxed manner as she asked if there was anything else they needed. After they said no, she placed the bill on the table and walked away. Agent Proctor immediately reached for it, grabbing the slip of paper before he could have a chance to. He didn't have any money on him, but it would be nice to know how much his meal was so he could pay her back. He remembered her saying something about SHIELD having covered everything, but he didn't want to owe them anything.

"How much was mine?" he asked, leaning forward a bit to try and see the bill. She pressed it to her chest and shook her head.

"Nothing." she answered him. He let out a sigh and sat back in his seat, watching as she pulled out her yellow wallet, pulling out a few bills and then getting up to go pay the cashier.

He was left alone at the table. He looked around the diner, noticing that the people who were there when they got had left. New patrons had taken their places, but he paid no mind to them. He looked back across the booth where Agent Proctor was sitting moments before. She had left her things on her side - trusting that no one would take them. He noticed that her cereal bowl still had some bits in it and when he leaned forward, he found that she had eaten all of the marshmallows but had left the actual cereal bits.

An amused smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and he tried to hide it by ducking his head down to look at his own plate. Even though he had thought he wasn't that hungry, he had actually finished his meal. And it was much better than the food he was served in the barracks. Food was one of the good things about this time.

As quickly as she left, she came back, sliding down in the booth and bouncing a few times to get comfortable. She placed her arms back on top of the table and kept her posture straight. There was a half smile on her face as she looked at him for a moment. Then she took in a breath and her face became serious again.

"Why don't we go back to your apartment and talk about what you mentioned a few minutes ago." she offered. But he knew it wasn't an offer, more like a command. She noticed his hesitation and added, "If that's something you're willing to talk about."

"Not like I have much of a choice, right?"

"No, you do." she refuted, "If you don't want to talk about it yet, we can talk about something else." He paused for a moment, realizing that her offer really was an offer. He met her gaze, seeing the small smile on her face. More and more he was beginning to understand that she had his best interests at heart, really wanting to help him rather than just being another SHIELD agent following orders.

"Okay." he nodded once, sitting back in his seat. "Thank you, Agent."

"I mean, we will have to talk about it at some point." she clarified, reaching for her water, "Unless you want me to get fired." she made her eyes wide before taking a gulp of her water.

"Well, we wouldn't want that." he sighed out, half joking, half serious and getting a smile from her.

"Ready?" she asked him after she finished her sip of water. He nodded and she gathered up her things, both of them going to get out of the booth.

Once they got outside, he noticed that it had gotten a bit later in the morning, a bit busier than it was when they first went inside. Now was the time most people went to their jobs, started their day, their routine. According to the schedule Agent Proctor had given him, there were a few things to fill up his day: one of them being their morning talk. He felt like they had already talked enough for the morning, but knew it wasn't about anything that could be of use to her.

As much as he hated to admit it, he needed a schedule, a routine, something to keep him going. He had always had a routine: one for when he was selling bonds, another after he was defrosted and then one after the attack on New York. He was used to routines. It gave him a sense of purpose, like he was actually living a life. He felt that Agent Proctor's routine would be different than the ones he had come up with. Though he was unsure if it would be a good different or a bad different - that was still up in the air.


	8. ikea

There was a squeaking noise as the knobs of the shower turned, shutting the water off. Hearing the sound from her position on the bed, Q glanced over to the closed bathroom door for a moment before turning her attention back to her laptop screen. She had looking at the results from Captain Rogers' sleep pattern from the night before (they weren't great). Not wanting her early morning guest to see what she was working on, she locked her laptop and closed it, then gathered up her notepad and shoved it under her pillow. He would be out of her apartment soon enough.

"Already working, huh?" Rumlow asked as he walked out of the bathroom. She couldn't help but admire his body, letting her eyes rake over his abs and chest. She ran her hands through her hair, shrugging a bit as she did so. He let out a light chuckle as he toweled off his hair while another towel was wrapped around his waist.

"Was hoping you were gonna join me." he continued, moving to the end of the bed and leaning down so he was resting his palms against the mattress.

"That would defeat the purpose of the shower." she quipped back, pulling her knees up to her chest, but letting them fall open a bit. He gave her a wink before letting his eyes trail over her. She didn't have anything else on other than her oversized sleep shirt.

Raising her eyebrows, she waited to catch his eye. Once he made eye contact with her, he matched her look, waiting for her to say what was on her mind. She gave a pointed look to the clock, already knowing the time, but wanting him to see it as well.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" she asked, looking back at him. It was a rhetorical question, both of them knew that.

Taking in a breath, he straightened up and stepped away from the bed. He moved to where his clothes from the night before were scattered across the floor, bending down to pick them up. She silently watched him, taking in every way the towel hugged his hips and pressed against his ass.

"You know, I should be offended that you're so quick to kick me out after you're done with me." his comment got her attention, making her drag her gaze from his ass to his face.

"You should be thankful I let you shower this time." she replied back. He let out a scoff and gave her a slight eye roll as his hand went to undo the towel so it dropped from around his waist.

As a knee jerk reaction, her eyes dropped down and away from his naked body - which earned an amused laugh from Rumlow. At the laugh, she glared at him, trying to stop the blush that was coloring her cheeks. He grinned at her as he pulled on his underwear then stepped forward as he started to uncrumple his shirt so he could pull it over his head.

"You're real cute when you're embarrassed, you know that?" he asked as he pulled his shirt over his head and then rested his palms on the mattress once more.

"God, whatever." she scoffed out, grabbing his pants from where he put them on the bed and tossing them at him. She was not in the mood for whatever he was about to start. He needed to get out of her apartment so she could get a shower and get to Captain Rogers' apartment to start the day.

Rumlow let out another laugh and pushed off the bed so he could scoop up the pants from where they fell on the floor. As he shimmied into them, she watched him, letting her eyes travel to the V and the all the way down to the bulge in his underwear. He pulled up his pants to cover himself and she tore her gaze away from him, suddenly aware of how dry her mouth felt. She fell back against her pillow, hearing the notepad crunch underneath. He didn't notice, or didn't care; he continued get his things together. As he did, she glanced at the clock, estimating how much time she had before she needed to be at Captain Rogers' apartment. She could be right on time, if she didn't wash her hair. It all depended on how fast Rumlow was going to move his tight little ass.

Shrugging on his jacket, he turned to look back at her with a half smile on his face. She moved to get off the bed, standing up so that she could meet him at her bedroom door. The sleep shirt she had on was just small enough to expose enough of her bare ass, something that he took advantage of as she stepped closer to him.

"Enjoyed your wake up call, baby?" Rumlow asked, voice low as his hands reached around to gently squeeze her ass.

"Very much so." she responded, grinning at him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his face to hers so she could kiss him for a moment. At the taste of him, she pulled back, squinting at him a bit, "Did you use my toothbrush?" she asked, referring to the mintiness of his breath.

"Had to. Couldn't very well go into SHIELD with my breath smelling like you." he pulled her back for another kiss, which she let him do for a moment before pulling away,

"Okay, but next time, try some gum." she gently scolded him. He sighed at her small reprimand, but hummed in agreement. She gave him a satisfied smile before kissing him again.

After a moment, she pulled away from him, letting her arms move from around his neck to his chest. He kept his hands on her ass for a moment more, gently kneading the skin before moving his hands up to settle at her hips.

"Time for you to go." she ended their little redevenous with a pat on his chest. She stepped back from him, forcing him to let her go.

He knew better than to argue; she would be calling again soon enough, so he stepped toward the bedroom door, which she opened for him. She followed him out into the main living area and to the front door. He unlocked her locks and went to open it, only to pause and turn around to give her a grin.

"See ya around, Q." he winked at her before walking out of her apartment. She shut the door behind him, grateful that he was finally gone.

Glancing at the clock in the kitchen, she realized she had wasted precious shower time. She hurried back into her bedroom and into the bathroom where she turned on the shower with one hand and pulled off her shirt with the other. She yanked her hair up into a messy bun so that it wouldn't get wet from the water, grabbed her toothbrush and toothpaste, and stepped into the shower, tugging the curtin around the tub.

Over the past few days, she and Captain Rogers had slowly gotten into a routine. It started early in the morning and ended early in the night. She hadn't stayed there past ten, but always tried to get there before five. They went to the Mall so he could go on his run, then they would either go to the diner for a light breakfast or go back to his apartment to start their morning talk a bit earlier. Then the day was spent doing different activities that helped her establish a base for her graphs and charts. The day was finished with another talk over sandwiches from the deli in between their apartments.

As much as spending all of their time together was helping him, it was helping her. In a much smaller way of course; she actually ate three square meals a day and got outside more than she ever did before. Not being in the Triskelion from dawn to dusk was a weird thing for her - she hadn't seen Dawson in days. But it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. She was getting used to spending her time with Captain Rogers and she liked the routine they had. Now it was time to slowly start to bring in new players and new environments.

Sharon was scheduled to move in across the hall from Captain Rogers that weekend. Her cover had been set up and she was in no way publicly associated with SHIELD. Although she would spend most of her days at SHIELD - only donning the nurse guise the times Captain Rogers was home, she would be a presence. He and Q didn't spend a lot of time around people; after the elderly man at the diner recognized him, she wanted to lessen the probability of that happening, but didn't want to hide him away forever. He was already wary of people, as she expected, so with Sharon entering, Q was curious to how he would interact with her. Or if he would at all.

From the little time they spent in public places, she noticed that he was always on high alert, keeping an eye out for anything unusual. He was becoming comfortable in places, like the route he ran around the Mall, and the diner and deli, but she was interested in seeing how he would react to other more crowded places. It would also give him an opportunity to engage with people and a way to ease him back into society after being tucked away in a life of anonymity for so long. Though she was nervous what the ramifications would be if he were to be recognized in such a crowded place, she needed to push past her own concerns so that she could focus on Captain Rogers.

As she hurried up the steps to his apartment, she checked her watch - she was right on time, to the second. Making sure her hair was pulled back in the half up, half down do, she then tugged down her skirt, wanting it to appear longer than it was. Then she quickly rapped her knuckles against the door, only having to wait a moment before the door opened and Captain Rogers appeared on the other side.

"Good morning, Captain." she greeted him with a warm smile as he stepped out of his apartment. He was already dressed in his workout gear: a snug fitting shirt under his hoodie, basketball shorts and a pair of running shoes.

"Good morning, Agent." he responded before turning to close and lock his apartment. He shoved his keys into the pockets of his hoodie.

She let him walk past him, following him down the stairs and out to where her car was parked on the side of the street. He got into the passenger seat, reaching over to push open her door before she got around the car. They buckled up before she pulled her car out onto the street.

As she drove to the Mall, a different album from the 1930s played through the speakers. She had spent a few nights making sure she had music from Captain Rogers' time, understanding that he wasn't quite ready to hear music from the 21st century. Not all the albums were available on Spotify or iTunes but she managed to get what she needed - she just hoped no one at SHIELD tagged her for her illegal downloading.

Once they arrived at his starting point, she took his hoodie from him and draped it over her arm. She made her way to the same bench she had been sitting on the days previous. Setting her bag next to her, she reached in and exchanged his hoodie for her Sudoku book. Before she started the next puzzle, she looked over to see that Captain Rogers had started his run. She watched him for a moment, knowing all of his stats were currently being recorded and she would be able to look at them later that evening.

Over the past few days, she noticed that he adjusted his route so that he wouldn't run past the World War II memorial. After their second day together, the FitBit showed his reaction to the memorial - showing that he not only paused there but took some time to inspect it. There were sparks in the frontolimbic network and his serotonin levels spiked. This paired with his increased heart rate and verbal response to the memorial during their breakfast, made it clear that it had a negative effect on him.

So for the next few days, he made it a point to avoid the memorial and Q saw that the levels were normal (as normal as they were for him, which wasn't great to begin with) and his brain activity showed nothing unusual. His heart rate and pulse oximeter were what they usually were during his previous exercise tests. He had physically avoided something that made him uncomfortable, but she could tell that it was affecting him - since he had to purposefully avoid it.

They didn't talk about the memorial and his feelings toward it since the small mention at the diner. She didn't want to push him, they weren't at that point yet. The only time she had was during their initial assessment and that was barely a nudge. She was fine with letting him talk about whatever he wanted to talk about until he felt more comfortable around her.

Another thing that Captain Rogers had begun to do was slightly increase his pace and time. He still managed to finish in about a half an hour, but he was starting to do more laps than when he first started out. It didn't affect his stats in a negative way so Q thought nothing more than it just being a something to build up endurance and make physical progress.

Currently, it was all about the physical progress with him. Which was fine, just not something she was concerned about. For being frozen for seventy years, he was in great shape. The super soldier serum flowing through his veins didn't hurt either. But she was more worried about his mental and emotional progress. Things like his social skills and reactions to what was going on around him. He needed to be immersed - maybe not immersed cause that might be too fast, but he definitely needed to dip his toe into things out of his comfort zone.

When he finished his run, he jogged over to where she was sitting on the bench. Her Sudoku puzzle was almost finished and she marked the page before exchanging the book for his hoodie. She handed it to him before dipping her hand back into her bag and getting a water bottle for him. He nodded in thanks, taking it from her and cracking it open. She waited for him to chug half the bottle before speaking,

"Are you hungry? Do you want to go to the diner or walk to the deli and then eat at your apartment?" She watched him consider his options for a moment before settling on his answer,

"The deli sounds good."

Q drove them back to his apartment where they walked to the deli. At their entrance, Albert came up from behind the counter to greet them. She ordered their usuals: a sweetened coffee and an egg sandwich for him, a soda and an egg and bacon sandwich for her. Not much time had passed since she first brought Captain Rogers to the deli, but him and Albert had progressed to casual conversation.

Albert never revealed if he knew exactly who Captain Rogers was, but she was sure he did. Mostly because how they interacted with each other. It was much more casual and easy going than her conversations with him - talking about things of the past they both remembered happening. Like they were old friends. The men had similar shared experiences and it was almost like Albert was becoming a friend to him. Good. Captain Rogers needed a friend.

After getting their orders, they bid Albert goodbye and started walking back to Captain Rogers' apartment. She dug into her sandwich as they walked, not wanting to have to eat when they got back to the apartment and she had to take notes. He sipped at his coffee, keeping quiet as he did. They had already covered the general topic of his run - she would have more to look at at the end of the day.

She used the quiet walk to think about what she wanted to try and talk about with him. Usually she had a couple different topics prepped in case he didn't feel ready to talk about her first choice. Her end goal was to talk about the obvious guilt that was weighing down on him like the world was on his shoulders, but she wasn't even close to being there yet. The most she ever got out of him was what he said at the diner - he hadn't opened up about anything else. It was clear that she was going to have to start at the present and work backwards, trying to open him up slowly and in a way that wouldn't make him shut her out immediately.

Once they got back to Captain Rogers' apartment, she followed him up the staircase and to his apartment. He unlocked the door and stepped inside before her, shedding his hoodie as he went. He draped it neatly around the chair at the table and she discarded her trash in the kitchen trash can. Walking over to the table, she pulled off her messenger bag and placed it on the table.

On the table was the Sudoku puzzle she had given him a few days ago. All of the boxes had been filled in, but it had obviously taken him a while. She reached for the paper, picking it up and glancing it over before looking at him and holding it up.

"Captain, did you finish this?" she asked, getting his attention. He stopped unwrapping his breakfast sandwich and his eyes went from her face to the paper she was holding in her hand.

"Yes. Last night." he nodded at her. She pulled the corners of her mouth down and nodded a bit as she looked back at it. Seemed like that was why his sleep pattern was uneven.

Letting her eyes scan over each of the cells, she checked his work. It was going in the right direction and she thought he had finished it correctly before she saw there were two '2's in the same row. She screwed her mouth to the side and looked up from the paper, seeing that he was watching her intently. She took in a breath and tilted the paper over so he could see it.

"There's a two here and here." she pointed out his mistake, dragging her finger over to the other number. He let out a quiet, semi annoyed noise as he reached for the paper. As he looked over his mistake, she spotted a pencil on the table that he was obviously using for the puzzle.

"What if I switch these two?" he asked after a moment. She leaned over to peer at the paper, seeing where his finger was motioning to two different numbers, "Then move this one?" he continued, figuring out where he went wrong. She handed over the pencil, which he took and used to erase his mistakes and fix it. When he was finished, he handed it back to her and she took a glance over it, already knowing he had done it right.

"Good job." she gave him a small smile and nodded at him. A proud look came over his face as she congratulated him. He ducked his head down and rocked back on his heels, trying not to show his satisfaction.

"Feels good, right?" she asked, noticing his motion.

"Yes, it does." he admitted, looking back at her with a grin. It had taken him a while to complete the puzzle, but he had done it. All on his own. She matched his grin and nodded again before moving to get her notepad and pen out of her bag.

"When was the last time you felt like that?" she asked, using it as a way to slip into their conversation for the morning. She didn't mean for it to happen, but sometimes it just happened to work out.

"What do you mean?" he asked, following her as she walked to living room area. She sat herself down in the armchair, crossing her ankles and placing the notepad on her lap. Captain Rogers sat down in the middle of the couch, holding his sandwich in one hand and taking a bite as he waited.

"When was the last time you felt proud of yourself for achieving a goal?" she reworded her question, putting a bit more detail in it.

There was a bit of silence as he thought about her question. She watched him eat his breakfast sandwich, chewing thoughtfully as he went through his past experiences before settling on one. He met her gaze and raised his eyebrows a bit,

"New York. After the attack." he seriously said. She nodded at that, figuring that would be his answer.

"Why?"

"Because we saved the world from aliens." His brow furrowed at the end of his sentence, like he was still trying to wrap his head around the whole alien thing. He existed in a time where aliens were nothing but a fable, something that was in science fiction novels, not a real thing. To be honest, she couldn't quite believed they existed either. But that wasn't the point of their conversation.

"That's a pretty broad answer." she prompted him with a slight raise of her eyebrows. He licked his lips and looked down at his lap, brow furrowing a bit again as he peeled back more of the foil of his sandwich.

She let him sit with himself for a moment, wanting to give him a few moments to answer again before moving on. It could go either way: he could answer and they could discuss it, or she would take the silence as his way of telling her he didn't want to talk about it and she would move on to a different topic.

"It was the first time I felt like I had a purpose after being defrosted." he answered after a moment.

"How did you feel before that?" she asked, intent on looping back around to the main question, but wanting to get a little bit deeper.

"Stagnant." he gave her a one word answer - something she was beginning to realize that he loved doing as a way to explain himself. It wasn't enough for her and she knew he was aware of it because he was quick to explain, "It felt like I was just existing. I wasn't doing anything important like I had been before." he explained.

"But you were a part of SHIELD." she clarified, making sure her timeline was correct. He nodded, then clarified with,

"I hadn't been given any missions yet."

"What were you doing?"

"Punching open punching bags in a gym." he simply answered with a sigh. She moved on, wanting to focus on what he said before. They could come back to what he was doing before what happened in New York.

"So New York, working as a part of the Avenger Initiative, was the first time you felt like you were doing something important again." she put together everything he had told her in a concise statement, writing it all down as she went.

"Yes." he answered.

"Do you think your sense of achievement stemmed from doing something important?" she asked, looking at him, "From not being stagnant, from feeling like you had a purpose."

"I think so." he responded with a nod. He paused for a moment, taking a bite of his sandwich and swallowing before continuing, "It felt familiar to be a part of the Avengers Initiative. We were a team, fighting against a common enemy."

"Similar to your time with the Howling Commandos." she related it to something from his past, toeing the water ever so slightly. At the mention of his past comrades, he swallowed and shifted a bit in his seat, but nodded.

"We were a team." he repeated himself.

Through the rest of their conversation, Q didn't get anything more out of him concerning the Howling Commandos. What they did talk about was his time with the Avengers. How they worked together and how that felt for him. It made him feel like he was a part of something, the same thing which he lost when he sacrificed himself. Based on what he talked about and how he was talking about it, she was confident to make the assumption that being an Avenger was familiar to him because it was like he was a soldier again. He liked working with people to protect those who couldn't protect themselves.

Working with the Avengers wasn't necessarily the same as working with the Howling Commandos; there was no familial feel to it, but it was something he was used to. He liked camaraderie, but didn't necessarily thrive on it. He had gotten so used to being alone that working with the Avengers felt kind of like a gift. One that was taken away from him after they saved New York.

"Speaking of New York," Q started as she marked the amount of time they spent talking at the top of the first page of that day's notes. Each time they finished one of their talks, she marked how long the conversation was. The times were getting incrementally longer each talk, which was a good thing; it meant he was slowly opening up to her, "Your things from your old apartment are arriving on Sunday." she mentioned, wanting to warn him about the pending arrival of his things. She looked over at him with a smile, "You can finally put your own touch on this place."

"To be honest, I didn't really have that much to begin with." he admitted, twirling his thumbs around each other as he looked around the apartment. He had finished his sandwich and coffee during their conversation, the trash sitting on the coffee table in front of him. She paused at that; she figured he had his own stuff which was why she didn't do too much decorating.

Screwing her mouth to the side, she tried to think of a solution. She wanted him to feel like he was in a place that was his own. It was really important for his progress to be surrounded by things he liked, it would make him more comfortable and relaxed. Because if he was comfortable in his apartment, then in turn, he would start to become more comfortable and relaxed around her, feeling like he was in a safe space to express his emotions.

"Would you like to go out and pick some things out for your apartment?" she offered, coming up with an idea. If he was interested in doing so, they could go to a new place he hadn't been, somewhere with plenty of people. She could use it as an opportunity to see how he dealt with large crowds and other people he didn't know.

"Make this place feel more like a home than a SHIELD safehouse." she continued, trying to convince him that it wasn't a trick - that she was doing it for his sake. Which she was, about 80%, the other 20% was for her sake.

He considered her offer for a minute, continuing to look around the apartment and the bare walls he was surrounded by. Then his gaze settled back on her and he gave her a slight nod,

"I think that would be a good idea." She gave him a warm smile and uncrossed her ankles. She stood up, Captain Rogers following suit.

"Why don't you go get a shower and get changed, and then we can go." she prompted, pressing her notepad to her chest. She was well aware of how curious he was to see what she had written down during their sessions. He nodded at her before stepping over to the bedroom and shutting the door behind him.

After she heard the shower running, she walked over to the table. She slid her notepad into her messenger bag and sat down at the table. Using one hand to pull out her laptop, she finished off her soda with the other hand. Then she opened the laptop, tapping at the keys to log herself in and then seeing the charts she had been looking at earlier in the morning.

While he showered and got dressed for the day, she downloaded the data from his morning run into her files, then let her software do the processing work. She never could manually input it, getting bored and restless to easily. Plus, she was always afraid she would miss a number or double up on something. Most of her job was just looking at the results and comparing them with the previous ones to see if there was improvement or not.

She saved the data, knowing she would look at it later that evening. Captain Rogers was stepping out of his bedroom as she closed her laptop. She pushed it back into her messenger bag and got to her feet. Her hands were still in her bag, reaching for her Sudoku book. He walked over to the table, hair styled in the same superhero swoop as it always was, dressed in a pair of light colored pants, a button up plaid shirt that was tucked into his pants with a complimenting leather jacket over it.

For a man who had been frozen for seventy years, she had to admit that he had a decent sense of style. Of course, it was a little bland and sort of reminded her of how the older generation dressed, but then she remembered that he was the older generation. She was hoping that he would slowly start to dress more casual and expand his outfit options; he wore a variation of the same thing every day. But then again, she didn't really have room to talk; so did she.

He picked up his hoodie, turning back to go into his bedroom and hang it up in his closet. She flipped through her Sudoku book and found an incomplete puzzle, ripping out the page as he came back to the table.

"Another puzzle, if you want." she held up the page before placing it down on the table.

"Thank you, Agent." he nodded at her, glancing down at the paper before looking back at her.

"Are you ready?" she asked him, raising her eyebrows up a bit. He nodded again and she gave him a warm smile. Then she raised her fingers up, indicating that he should wait for a moment. She moved past him and into his bedroom, going into his closet and grabbing a baseball cap from the top shelf.

Walking back out, she extended her arm, holding the baseball cap out to him. It was a nondescript one that matched the color of the pattern on his shirt. He took it from her, turning it over in his hands before placing it on his head, adjusting it so it fit better. His eyebrows furrowed at her, silently wondering why he was wearing a baseball cap.

"Just so no one recognizes you." she explained, catching the slight look of confusion. The furrowed brow relaxed and he nodded a bit.

Once they were both ready to go, she let him walk out before her, leading her down the stairs. They went out to her car and he managed to open her door for her before she got to the driver's side. The album playing was the only sound in the car as she drove toward their destination. They managed to listen to a full song before Captain Rogers spoke up,

"Where do you go to get apartment decor?" he asked.

"Depends on the person and what your style is." she answered him, glancing over at him briefly before looking back at the road.

"I'm not sure what my style is." he responded, brow furrowing as he tried to figure out his sense of style.

"Then it's a good thing we're going to a place with many options." she gave him a reassuring smile.

"Where?"

"Ikea." He looked over at her, obviously confused at the word.

"What's an Ik-ea?" She twisted her mouth to the side, trying not to smile at his pronunciation of the word.

"I-kea." she enunciated, "It's a massive store that has all your apartment needs and wants. Plus, amazing Swedish meatballs." she added.

"It has food too?" he asked, clearly getting more and more confused.

"It's a little hard to explain." she glanced over at him, squinting a bit as she tilted her head, "You just have to see for yourself."

The parking lot of Ikea wasn't very full yet and she was able to find a parking spot close to the exit doors. The two of them walked into the store and she made sure to click her recorder on, letting the microphone part stick out of her messenger bag pocket a bit.

As soon as they stepped through the sliding doors, he stopped in his tracks, looking around the first level. They weren't even at the good stuff yet. They still had to go up the escalator and start their journey through the massive warehouse-store. But still, he clocked every little thing. This was going to be a long trip.

Once they stepped off the escalators, Q grabbed a cart, pushing it in front of her as he took in the layout. The first section were the living rooms. There were a few models set up that the two of them walked through. She was quiet for a moment, letting him look over different items and products.

"If you see anything you like, just put it in the cart." she spoke up, getting his attention. He nodded at her before turning back to look at the model they were standing by.

"Why do they set up these?" he asked, gesturing to the living room set up.

"To give people some inspiration." she explained, stepping back from the cart and into the model, "These are all things that they sell." she gestured around herself, "So they set up these models to show people how it could look in their homes."

"That's nice." he nodded at her, continuing to look around the mini living room. She tried not to smile at his reaction; it was nice of them, but it was more of a marketing trick than anything else - helping people buy their things.

The two of them made their way through the living room sections and he put a couple things into the cart: a framed picture of a motorcycle and an art figurine. It was hard to figure out how busy the store really was; everything was so spread out and it was a massive layout. But they did come across a few couples and families. He kept close to her, but didn't duck his head down to cover his face more, letting the baseball cap do it's job.

They moved on to the workplace section. There were desks and chairs and other accessories for offices. He stepped away from her, looking at some of the things in the more artsy model. She followed, leaving the cart by the side so that she could look at what he was looking at.

"Agent, how do you say this?" he asked, picking up one of the things to show her the tag. She looked at the word and let out a scoff,

"I have no idea." she shook her head, "I don't think anyone does. Honestly, I think most of these product names are made up." He looked over at her, meeting her eyes with a slight grin.

As he looked over the model, she moved back to the cart, shifting it so that a young couple could get into the model. She watched as they went over to where he was standing. He gave them a polite smile and shifted so he wasn't in their way. Neither one of them seemed to know - or care, who he was. He relaxed a bit when he realized that, going back to looking at whatever he had been beforehand.

There were a few items in the cart when the two of them got to the kitchen section of Ikea. They walked into the model, Captain Rogers taking in the layout and items that were set up. At the sight of the sinks, she grinned to herself. She met him at the counter area, twisting the handles of the one sink. He watched her as she stepped back, placing her fists on her hips,

"Sink's broken." she tsked, a slight grin on her face. He squinted at her, not understanding the reference. She dropped her hands, remembering who she was with and how she was supposed to act. Professional.

"It's from a movie." she explained, straightening up, "(500) Days of Summer."

"Haven't seen it." he shook his head. She waved her hands at him, trying not to make him feel bad. She shouldn't have even tried to reference a movie, she still needed to keep herself professional.

"I wouldn't have expected you to." she paused, already regretting her choice of words and how it alluded to him being frozen in a block of ice for seventy years. She winced, wanting to take it back, but instead just clamping her mouth shut before she could say anything else stupid. She looked away from him, down at the sink, her hand idly playing with the sink handle.

"I haven't seen a lot of films." he admitted, getting her to look back at him, "Is that something that I should be doing, Agent?"

"Oh, well, only if you want to, Captain." she gave him a tight smile. She had planned on showing him a few movies and television shows, but not until he was more comfortable with her. She felt that it was more important to get him out into the world rather than having him watch a bunch of movie and shows to try and catch up.

"I think it would be good. Obviously, they have references in them that people use every day." he gestured to the sink and she pulled her hand back from the handles. She nodded at him,

"We'll start tonight then." she decided. She already had a list of classic movies that she felt he would enjoy, one from each genre. They ranged from after he was frozen to the present day, the ones nominated for awards or were popular for other reasons so that he was exposed to all the greatest hits.

"With the film you mentioned?" he asked, raising his eyebrows up. Her brow furrowed, not expecting him to ask that. She cleared her throat and nodded, going with it.

"If you'd like to." To be honest (500) Days of Summer wasn't even on her list - it was a tragic movie and not even one of her favorites. It just had some good parts: like the Ikea scene.

"I would." he answered her, deciding their evening activity. She forced a warm smile on her face and nodded.

As the two of them made it through the rest of the store, she watched him start to relax a bit. He was still on alert, making sure he was aware of his surroundings, but his posture wasn't as rigid as it once was. The baseball cap, as insignificant of a detail as it was, seemed to help him. It kept his face covered and made him look like a normal, regular guy. Which in turn made him feel like one.

Before they got to the stairs that led to more of the decorations and things he would be interested in (since he already had the basic furniture), they made it to the cafe. She checked her watch, seeing that it was already lunchtime and the cafe was bustling with people. She knew most of them were there just to eat the food, but you still had to go through the entire store to get there.

"There is food here." she heard Captain Rogers say as he took in the cafe. He looked at her, eyebrows raising up and she copied his expression, gesturing to the area.

"Would you like to try it?" she asked.

"Sure." he agreed, taking in a breath.

Leading him to the cafe, she parked the cart next to an empty table and directed him to take a seat. She figured it would be easiest to go get the food for them and then bring it back so he wasn't overwhelmed with all the options. They had everything from the Swedish meatballs to seafood platters.

After getting the food, she balanced the two trays on her hands as she walked back to the table. Captain Rogers immediately stood up, taking one of the trays from her and she gave him a grateful smile. She sat down across from him as he looked at his plate. She knew the meatballs didn't look appetizing, but he didn't look disgusted, just curious.

"What makes them Swedish?" he asked, looking back at her.

"They're smaller than regular Italian meatballs," she started to explain, picking up her fork and cutting one in half before lifting it up to show him, "It's a different flavoring and sauce too." He nodded, looking back at his meatballs for a moment before picking up his fork and stabbing one. He raised it to his face and she watched him look it over before hesitantly putting it into his mouth.

She carefully watched him, gauging his reaction to the new food. His eyes squinted a bit as he chewed, like he was trying to figure out if he liked it or not. Then he swallowed and pulled the corners of his mouth down, nodding a bit.

"Do you like it?" she asked, raising her eyebrows a bit.

"It's...different." he settled on, which meant he didn't like it.

"It's okay that you don't like it." she gave him an understanding smile. He looked at her, eyebrows furrowing a bit.

"I don't not like it." he shook his head slightly, "Just never had anything like it before." In what seemed to be his way of making a point, he ate another meatball, finishing it before speaking again, "A lot better than some of the things I've had to eat." She twisted her mouth to the side, trying not to smile and make a joke.

"Good." she nodded at him, going to start eating her own meal.

When they were finished, she cleared their plates and he pushed the cart back to meet her by the stairs. They went into the elevator so they could go down to the final part of the store. It was clear he didn't realize there was another floor full of things because once they stepped off into the tableware section, his eyebrows raised,

"There's more?" he asked out.

"Yes." she nodded, looking over to see how surprised he looked, "It's a lot. Trust me, I know." He took in a breath and then let it out, eyes scanning to take in what was in front of him.

Captain Rogers picked out a few more things as they walked through the different decor sections. She tried to help, pointing out certain pieces that she thought he might like. He didn't. And she realized that she was wrong in what she assumed he liked. He had a much more modern sense of style than she previously thought.

Finally, they arrived at the check out. He helped her unload the items he had picked out - including the set of barstools he had found in the kitchen section that he really liked. The cashier scanned all of the items and as she did, Q spotted a small brown leather notebook in the rack of trinkets. She picked it up and turned it over in her hands; it would be perfect to give to Captain Rogers as a way for him to write down his thoughts or things he encountered that he was confused about - like Ikea and (500) Days of Summer. She placed it on the belt behind the other items, then stepped over to pay for what he had picked out.

Miraculously, everything managed to fit into her car (not that she was worried about the bags, but she was worried about the barstools) and they started their trip back to his apartment. It was quiet for the whole drive and she figured it must've taken a lot out of him. Being around people and in an unfamiliar place was a lot more taxing than a morning run. She was beginning to realize that he got most of his energy from being on his own. Whether this was how it was for him all along or a more recent development from being defrosted into a world that he wasn't familiar with, remained to be seen.

Captain Rogers carried the barstools up into his apartment while she took the bags, which were heavy enough for her. He managed to unlock his apartment and get the door open. She walked in after him, immediately putting the bags down onto the table and feeling her arms ache a bit from carrying the load. He set the boxes the barstools were in up against the breakfast bar, stepping back to shrug his jacket off of him and go to hang it up in the bedroom.

When he came back out, he stood by the table, his hands on his hips and his sleeves rolled up. She started to unload the bags, pulling out the items he had gotten, but placing the notebook off to the side to give to him later, and he stepped over to help her. Together, they set up the different things around the apartment and slowly it started to feel a little bit more homey. They made casual conversation as they went, discussing if certain things would look better in different places and playing around with the items.

The bags were empty and the only thing that was left were the barstools. They were still in the box and needed to be put together. Captain Rogers made quick work of moving the furniture in the living room back so that there was enough space to lay out the pieces. She tried to lift the boxes up, but they didn't even budge an inch so she decided to go get the toolbox she had stowed in the front closet. Shrugging out of her blazer, she let it drape over the back of the chair, wanting to have some range of motion for putting together the stools.

"I have to warn you, Captain," she started as she looked over to the living room, watching him set down the boxes with ease, "putting together Ikea furniture is a b-" she caught herself, stopping the curse word that was instinctively coming out and quickly replacing it with "a hard thing to do."

"I'm sure we can just follow the directions and it won't be a problem." He nodded at her, hands on his hips. She raised her eyebrows and let him think that as she grabbed her recorder before moving over to the living room. She set it on the couch as he went to open the boxes up.

Nestled inside were all the materials that made up the stools. It had a dark gray, cushion seat and back with black legs that were connected in the middle by a short section of wood. There was a thick booklet of instructions on how to put it together along with the screws needed.

"There's two, so do you want to take one and I'll take the other?" she asked, looking over at him.

"Works for me." he agreed before moving to open the other box that had the same things inside.

Moving over to the other side of the living room, Q set the toolbox on the floor in between them and then sat down in front of her box, tucking her legs underneath her. He followed suit, crossing his legs Indian Style before taking the things out of the box. She picked up the packet of instructions and opened it to the first page, locating her small bag of screws and washers.

Not being able to deal with the silence, she pushed to her feet, stepping around his side and going to the record player. She picked a random one and set it on the turntable, lifting the needle and then gently placing it back down so that it played the first song. Better.

She moved back to her side of the living room, glancing down to see there was a small smile on Captain Rogers' face. As she settled back down on the floor, she questioned it, getting him to lift his head and then shake it.

"Nothing." She fixed him with a look, silently telling him to tell her, "Just...the records you picked out aren't really the best." he explained, getting her to raise her eyebrows.

"What should I have picked?" she asked, feeling a little offended at his constant disapproval of her music choice. Who would've thought he was such a music snob?

"Stuff like what was playing in the car." he answered her, "I mean, I like what you picked out, but there's more out there than just the big bands." She nodded at him, a slight grin on her face before she went back to building her stool.

A few minutes passed of just them building their own stools and she glanced over to see him concentrating on screwing the washer down, double checking his work against the instructions. He was a little bit ahead of her since he was stronger than she was and could screw the parts together faster, but she was making some headway.

"Ever done something like this before?" she asked, getting his attention. He briefly made eye contact with her before looking back at his work.

"A few times." he nodded, "Before the serum. I wasn't very good at it though. They would fall apart pretty much as soon as someone tried to use it." he pressed his lips together at the memory. She figured it must've been because he had basically no muscle before the serum. She had read his files, knew how skinny and weak he was. Obviously, that was no longer the case.

"What sorts of things did you build?" she asked, continuing the conversation.

"Chairs, mostly. A table." he tilted his head to the side, "But that didn't last very long. Bucky put something on it and it immediately collapsed." She tried not to smile at the image, twisting her mouth to the side and ducking her head down. It was the first time he had ever mentioned Bucky to her and she wanted to try and pull a little more from him. She knew who he was - well the bare bones: how close he and Captain Rogers were, how he was a part of his Howling Commando squad, the only one to lose his life during the war. She wanted to know about him from Captain Rogers' own memories and through his own words. But before she could continue with another question, he was asking her one of his own,

"Have you?" He glanced over at her, eyebrows raised a bit, "Ever built something like this before?"

"Sort of." she screwed her mouth to the side, "I would start and then I would get annoyed and just give up and call someone to do it for me." she waved her screwdriver around in the air.

"You seem to be doing pretty good for yourself right now, Agent." he complimented her, nodding at her progress.

"Remember that, Captain, when you try sitting on it and it falls apart." she sighed, getting a slight laugh from him. A sudden feeling of satisfaction blossomed in her chest at his little laugh. It was more like an amused scoff, but it still made her feel good; she had gotten him to laugh. Progress.

There was a scratching static noise coming from the record player since it had played through both sides of the record, but neither of them minded; they had finally finished their stools. There had been some frustration, losing of pieces, finding the pieces and general confusion over the instructions, but they had done it. Hours had passed, but all of the pieces were together in the right way and the stools were put together. She struggled to pick hers up, but managed, setting it down on the carpet as he did the same.

"Time for the ultimate test." she raised her eyebrows at him before gesturing for him to sit on hers. He took in a breath and nodded, then stepped over to the stool. He easily balanced himself on the stool, but she was nervous that the stool was going to collapse as soon as he put his full weight on it.

But when he did, nothing happened. The stool stayed and held his weight. She couldn't help the grin that came over her face; she was extremely proud of herself. He slipped off of the stool, standing up and nodding,

"It didn't fall apart." he pointed out, giving her an impressed look. She composed herself, trying to play it cool as she nonchalantly raised her shoulders up.

"My turn." she gave a look to his stool and he stepped back, letting her walk over to his stool.

She settled herself on top of the stool, sitting back and crossing her ankles as she did. The stool held her and didn't show any signs of rocking. She glanced at him with a small grin, seeing how relieved he looked at the fact that the stool held. It was clear he was waiting for it to fall apart, like all of his other past projects had. It was what he expected.

The stools were set up underneath the breakfast bar and she had to admit that they were the perfect addition to his apartment. She went about picking up the trash as he moved the furniture back to where it was when they first got into the apartment. The two of them carried down the trash to the dumpster, discarding it before going back inside.

Shrugging her blazer back on, Q picked up the notebook that was still on the table. She stepped over to where Captain Rogers was fiddling with the record player and got his attention. Holding out the notebook to him, he looked at it, then back to her.

"This is for you to use whenever you encounter something that you don't know about. Like movie references or Swedish meatballs." she explained as he took the notebook from her, "Then we can go through it and tick some of the things off the list."

"Thank you, Agent." he nodded at her, "This will be very helpful." She gave him a warm smile and nodded at him. "Are we still going to watch that film you mentioned earlier?" he asked, looking up from the notebook with his eyebrows raised in what she realized was a hopeful way.

"Sure." she nodded at him, "We can do that."

The movie wasn't on Netflix, but Q managed to find another way to get it and then hooked up her laptop to the television. She started the movie and then turned her computer around so the screen wasn't distracting. Captain Rogers settled on one end of the couch and she made sure to turn off the main lights so they could get the full effect.

She sat herself down on the other end of the couch, making sure she kept her posture professional as the movie started. She had seen this movie plenty of times before, but for some reason it felt different watching it with him on the other side of the couch. Stealing glances over at him, she saw how closely he was paying attention. She took in a breath and decided to do the same, knowing that they would have to talk about it afterwards. So the two of them sat there, watching the story unfold.


	9. nice to meet you neighbor

It wasn't that he didn't like the film - he just...didn't understand it. Well, no, he understood the basic concept; it was so plainly laid out in front of him. Boy meets Girl, Girl meets Boy, they get together and then fall apart, then get back together at the end. But as the movie went on, he figured out that it was bound to have a tragic ending. The Boy - Tom, was obviously projecting a false idea of who he thought the Girl - Summer, was. He hated Tom. He liked Summer. And he thought Tom's boss looked extremely like Agent Coulson, but Agent Proctor assured him it was just a weird coincidence.

But Steve didn't get any of the references made throughout the film. A few he could pick up on - like the Ikea scene, and he thought the penis game was hilarious. It was definitely something he would've done with the Howling Commandos, but he didn't get any of the pop culture references throughout the film. He spent most of the film jotting down things mentioned into the little notebook Agent Proctor had given him earlier in the evening.

They spent the rest of the week going through his list. He was introduced to the show that was mentioned during the Ikea scene: American Idol. They listened to some songs from the music that was mentioned: like the band The Smiths and the singer Bruce Springsteen. He enjoyed most of the songs they listened to. One day, after his run, she took him to an arcade and showed him the Pac-Man game that Tom and his friends played in the cafe. The previous evening was spent watching The Graduate - the film that was a big part of the other film.

"So what did you think of the movie we watched last night?" Agent Proctor asked him as she walked over to the chair after he set it down. He didn't immediately respond to her question, going over to the couch and sitting down as she crossed her ankles and set her notepad on her lap.

It was the beginning of their Sunday morning talk. He had gone on his run while she worked on a sudoku puzzle. He had finished the second one she had given her and she had looked over it while they ate breakfast at the diner. He managed to get it right on the first try. Afterwards, they went back to his apartment where he showered and dressed himself for the day - keeping it loose since he remembered her mentioning that his things from New York would be arriving later that day.

"It was similar to the film we watched on Wednesday." he answered her, gaining a semi-surprised reaction from her.

"How so?"

"They're both kind of the same character...going after the girl because they think she's the one that they're meant to be with." he explained, "You know, like in both movies the girl is just kind of a...a prize to be won."

"The other day you said that…" He watched her flip through her notepad pages until she found what she was looking for, "You hated Tom." She looked over at him, making eye contact as she mentioned his feelings toward the main character of the first film, "Do you feel the same about Ben?" she asked, referencing back to the main guy of The Graduate.

"Yes." Steve answered firmly, "Because they're pretty much the same guy." She raised her eyebrows at him, wanting him to continue, "He's selfish and immature and thinks of Elaine the same way as Tom thinks of Summer." She nodded at him, writing down what he said to her.

"Permission to speak freely, Captain?" she asked, making eye contact with him. His brows furrowed at the question, not expecting it, but nodding nonetheless. She leaned forward, breaking the professional sitting pose she always held, "I never really liked either of those movies."

"Really?" His brow furrowed deeper at her confession. If she didn't like the films then why did they watch them? Why did she quote one to him as if she had watched enough times to know it by heart.

"I mean, objectively, they're good movies, but they're kind of...sad." she continued, "In (500) Days of Summer, he's about to repeat the same pattern with Autumn - he didn't learn from what happened with Summer. And in The Graduate, it ends with the two of them on the bus and at first they're really excited about what just happened, but then you see the realization of the potential repercussions of what they just did roll over them. There's no and they all lived happily ever after…"

Steve was quiet for a moment; that was the most he had ever heard her talk before. She usually let him do all the talking, and when she did speak, it was mostly just her explaining certain things to him. This was the first time she was just speaking her mind in a natural way - not in the medical way that she usually did.

"So why did we watch them?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Because you wanted to." she simply answered him. She straightened up out of her casual slump, recrossing her ankles and looking back down at her notepad. He watched her for a moment, thinking about her response.

It was beginning to become apparent that he controlled a lot more than he thought he did. Most of the decisions were up to him: where to eat, what to talk about, what to do...he had lot more freedom than he thought. Well, it wasn't necessarily freedom so much as allowance. It was clear that, through Agent Proctor, he was still under the watchful eye of SHIELD.

The conversation continued from there, discussing his favorite films and then somehow transitioning into talking about when he first became Captain America - not the soldier, but the performer. After the serum, he was ready to fight as the super soldier they turned him into, but the senator had a different plan for him.

All Steve ever wanted was to go overseas, fight on the front lines and take down those who were trying to take over. When Dr. Erskine selected him for the super soldier serum, he thought it was finally his chance to make a difference. From the get go, he had the chance to do so and he took advantage of it, taking down the German spy who had infiltrated the SSR base during his injection. He thought that was enough to be put on the front lines with the other soldiers, but Colonel Phillips did not. It was certainly why Steve jumped at the senator's offer; it was much better than being a lab rat.

"Were you angry about how it played out?" Agent Proctor asked him.

"More disappointed." he answered her, "I signed up to be a soldier, not a circus monkey." He admitted a slight bite to his voice.

He became a character, the star spangled man with the plan. It took him a bit to get used to it; he was never one to be in the spotlight. He went around the United States giving rousing speeches to crowds about how buying bonds could help the men overseas, all while girls danced behind him. He was the star of the USO show - punching out Adolf Hitler over two hundred times. He filmed commercials and short films as Captain America on sets that were designed to look like the frontlines of battle, but were really nothing more than sets. There were comic books created and costumes sold and everyone loved him...well not Steve Rogers, but Captain America.

At first, he liked being Captain America; he thought he was doing his part in fighting the war. While he wasn't necessarily fighting, he was helping soldiers. Every city he visited and performed at showed a ten percent jump in bond sales. He lifted the spirits of all the men, women and children who weren't able to fight - made them feel like they were doing something to help those who were. He gave the American people a sense of hope and comfort. The papers even called him as such: America's New Hope. Over and over he was constantly told that he was serving his country in the best way; the people he performed for bought the bonds which funded the guns and ammo the soldiers needed. Just as his speech said.

"All of that changed when the USO show went overseas." he seriously said, glancing down at his hands. He stayed quiet, letting his finger trace over the lines on his palm. He could feel Agent Proctor's eyes on him - they hadn't left his face while he recounted his past as Captain America.

"We were supposed to put on a show for the troops, rally them and lift their spirits." he started as he remembered the day, "They were more interested in the girls than me." he raised his eyebrows as he remembered the reactions to his speech. The men didn't care about him, making fun of him, even throwing tomatoes at him.

"It was then that I realized I was doing nothing compared to those men. They were fighting for their country, putting their lives on the line while I was...wearing tights and playing pretend."

During the USO tour through America, he was assured he was making a difference, but comparatively to the men he saw in Italy, he wasn't doing anything. The men of the 107th looked like they had faced death straight on and managed to escape - barely. It was there that he realized his was nothing more than a trained circus monkey, destined to perform for the rest of his life. And he hated it. He was supposed to be a soldier, that's what General Phillips and Dr. Erskine had told him he would be, but after Dr. Erskine was murdered, the plan changed.

"It was either that or go back to the lab to be tested on." he finished, having talked through the day he performed for the 107th and his realizations.

"And yet, you did neither." she raised her eyebrows at him, "Correct?"

"Yes." he answered, already feeling his stomach knot up at the mere thought of having to talk about what he did instead. How he realized he was performing for what was left of the 107th after most of their squad had been captured by Hydra - including Bucky. How he went after the men who were still behind enemy lines, how he found Bucky, only to lose him several weeks later.

He twisted his hands together and looked away from her, already prepping a way to talk around the obvious question that was coming. Talking about the 107th would lead to talking about Bucky which would lead to digging into that dark place in his mind where the bad stuff lived. The stuff he tried so hard not to talk about or let out or even think about. He was afraid that once he did, it would consume him. And he wasn't going to let that happen; he wasn't going to let himself unravel. Especially in front of Agent Proctor, who would undoubtedly report back to Fury and that would just be bad news.

Thankfully, he didn't have to talk about it because the rumbling sound of a truck outside of the apartment got her attention. Her eyes moved from his face to the window behind him and then her phone trilled with an incoming message. She glanced down at the screen for a moment before her lips pursed in annoyance, like the sound of the truck and the message had come earlier than she expected. She took in a breath and looked back at him,

"Your things are here." That professional, practiced warm smile broke out across her face as she uncrossed her ankles. She ducked her head down to scribble something on the top of the page before she circled it and capped her pen.

As she stood up, so did he, placing his hands on his hips as she pressed her notepad to her chest. She walked past him to the dining area and pushed the notepad into her messenger bag. He watched quickly her tap at her phone before looking over to him.

"Ready?"

He nodded at her, not really sure what he was supposed to be ready for. There could only be a few boxes, since he didn't really have that much to begin with. It wouldn't take them long to carry up the boxes and then unpack them. Though he was sure that she would want to talk about certain items that were in the boxes.

Following her out to the truck, it dawned on him that people from SHIELD had packed up his things. Which meant that they had seen what he had, which meant that Agent Proctor probably already knew what was inside each box. He took in a resigned breath and shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, looking around as Agent Proctor opened up the back of the truck. It was a smaller truck, enough to fit all of his belongings and leave plenty of room. Once opened, she stepped back, letting him step into the truck first. He picked up two boxes that were stacked on top of each other and then stepped out of the truck.

"Do you want me to take one?" she asked him, offering her help. He noticed that she had shed her ever present blazer and was actually dressed in looser fitting pants rather than the pencil skirt or suit pants he usually saw her in.

"Sure." He took her up on her offer and gently tipped the boxes forward so that one went into her open arms. Her face contorted a bit at the weight and she struggled to keep her grip on it. Steve realized that it might've been too heavy for her and quickly set the other box down before taking the box she was holding out of her hands. Upon further reflection, he realized the box wasn't actually that heavy - she just had zero muscles.

"I'll get something else." she commented, taking in a deep breath and shaking her arms out. He nodded at her, trying not to grin at what just happened as she reached for a bag that was filled with clothes instead.

Since there wasn't that much stuff, it didn't take them long to empty out the truck. Steve did most of the heavy lifting, while Agent Proctor held the doors opened for him and carried the lightest possible things. He could tell she was getting winded just going up and down the stairs multiple times. Nevertheless, she persisted and tried not to be obvious about her lack of physical fitness.

He was on his last trip down the stairs to the truck - Agent Proctor took a moment to get a drink of water and promised she would push one of the boxes into the apartment, when Steve noticed a young woman struggling to open the door to the building. She was on the smaller side, her blonde curls pulled back up into a ponytail that swung side to side as she tried to get a grip on the door. There were holes in her jeans and a loose white tee was half tucked into had a rather large box in her hands and it looked very unsteady as she tried to balance it and get the door open in one motion.

Realizing her predicament, Steve jogged over to open up the door for the woman, getting a relieved sigh from her.

"Thank you." she gave him a grateful smile.

"No problem." he responded with a nod as she stepped through the door. She was still struggling with the box so he stepped over to her, "Want me to get that for you?" he asked, offering his help.

"Oh, no, I'm okay." she waved him off, only for the box to go slipping out of her hand. He managed to catch it before it could go anywhere and steadied as she reacted a second too slow.

"Thanks." she gave a small laugh as he took the box from her.

"Which floor are you going to?" he asked as they walked to the stairs. She started up the stairs before him and he left enough space between them so he wasn't right behind her. He didn't want to come off too creepy.

"The second. Apartment three." she answered. That was the apartment next to him. She was his neighbor.

"I live in apartment four." he mentioned as they got to the second floor. She stepped over to the door of her apartment, glancing over to him.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, neighbor." A friendly smile broke out across her face as she pushed open the door to her apartment. He stayed in the doorway, not sure if he should go into her apartment if she didn't want him to. But he had enough of a view that he could see that she was just moving in. The layout of the apartment was different than his, but there were similar details in the setup.

"You can come in." she invited him in, "Just set the box wherever." He did what he was told, putting it down on the floor. "Sorry for the mess, I'm still getting settled."

"It's okay, so am I." he answered, placing his hands on his hips.

"Oh so you're the other moving truck out there." she put two and two together, giving him a wry smile.

"That I am." he easily responded. He paused, realizing how easy the conversation was flowing between the two of them. It was his first interaction with someone besides Agent Proctor or Albert. Really the only time he talked to someone was when they recognized him as Captain America, and that hadn't happened with his neighbor yet.

"Where'd you come from?" she asked him, genuinely curious.

"New York." he answered, raising his eyebrows up a bit, "You?"

"Just from a different apartment." She made a face, waving her hand around in the air, "I decided it was time to get my own place, stop living with roommates, you know?"

"Right." he nodded, getting a smile from her and he couldn't help but smile back. He paused for a moment before looking over his shoulder and then back to her, "Do you want a hand with the rest of your boxes?" he asked her, offering again to help her. It was clear that she was alone and he wanted nothing more than to help her out.

"If you don't mind." He shook his head, indicating that he didn't. He stepped to the side, letting her walk to the door of the apartment.

They stepped out of the apartment just as Agent Proctor was walking out of his apartment. Both of them stopped at the sight of each other and he watched her eyes dart to where the woman was standing next to him. He didn't know what to do, if he should introduce them or not - then he realized he didn't even know her name.

"Hi." Agent Proctor stepped forward to the woman, hand extending.

"This is Agent Proctor." Steve was quick to introduce her, moving his hand in the space between the women. He opened his mouth as he moved his hand back to the other woman, only to have Agent Proctor cut him off with,

"Q." she corrected him, "It's Q. Agent Proctor is just my title." His brow furrowed at the correction - he didn't know that was her first name. Of course she had a first name, everyone had a first name. But hers was...odd. The woman laughed lightly and then shook hands with Agent Proctor,

"Kate. Nurse Kate, if you want my title." Agent Proctor pulled the corners of her mouth down and nodded at Kate's answer. They stopped shaking hands and Kate stepped back from her, looking in between the two of them before settling it on him,

"Girlfriend?" she asked, a slight smile on her face. He felt his face immediately heat up at the question and his mouth went dry as he shot a panicked look to Agent Proctor.

"Co-workers." she answered for him, giving Kate a tight smile, "And speaking of, I have to get going." she looked over at him.

"Everything okay?" he asked, finally noticing that she had her blazer back on as well as her messenger bag.

"Just something I need to take care of before tomorrow." she gave him a reassuring smile before nodding at him. Then her gaze shifted to Kate, "It was nice meeting you, Kate."

"You too." They shared a smile before Agent Proctor walked past them, heading for the stairs and disappearing. It took a second for what just happened to sink in. She had left him - alone, in the middle of the day. That never happened. She was with him from the moment he woke up until the moment before he was about to get ready for bed.

"Excuse me for a moment." Steve excused himself from Kate to go after Agent Proctor. He hurried down the stairs and burst out of the apartment building to see that she was just getting to her car.

"Agent!" he got her attention. At the sight of him, her brows instantly furrowed, but she stood up a bit straighter.

"Captain, is everything okay?" she asked, tone colored with worried.

"I think I should be asking you that." he pointed out, placing his hands on his hips, "Why are you heading back to SHIELD? Is everything okay?" She eyed him for a moment before twisting her mouth to the side - the thing she did when she was trying not to smile.

"Yes, Captain. I was just...giving you a way to make a new friend without me lurking in the background." Her answer surprised him and he reacted as such, pulling his chin to his chest and raising his eyebrows.

"Oh," he paused, thinking about it, "Oh, okay."

"Is that okay?" she asked, face going serious.

"I believe so." he nodded at her and her face broke out into that professional, warm smile,

"Good. Then I will see you this evening." she nodded at him before walking around to the driver's side door and getting into her car. He stepped back and watched her drive away, leaving him alone for the first time in a long time.

A small weight felt like it was being lifted from his shoulders and he felt himself relax just slightly as her absence settled. The last time she randomly left him alone, the intense feeling of loneliness wrapped around him like a blanket and he braced himself for that feeling to return, but it didn't. In fact, he barely had time to think about how he was alone; he heard Kate exiting the building.

"Everything okay?" she asked, meeting him as he walked back to the front of the building.

"Yeah, yeah, I was just making sure she didn't need me to come with her." he explained, getting a nod from her.

"What do you two do?" she asked, arms crossing over her chest as they walked back to her moving truck. Steve paused for a moment, not sure how to answer that. He didn't know if he was to be going around telling people that they worked for SHIELD; then it would get into what exactly they do for SHIELD and that could just end badly.

"Government work." he settled on, giving the most basic answer he could. She took it, nodding a bit.

"That explains to Agent title." she waved her finger in the air. Her mention of the title reminded him of what she had said to Agent Proctor when they were introducing themselves,

"You're a nurse, right?" he asked, wanting to make sure he had heard her correctly.

"Yep." she nodded again, giving him a warm smile, "If you ever find yourself at Washington Memorial…" she trailed off, tilting her head to the side. He picked up that she was trying to tell him that she worked there. He gave her a nod back,

"I'll ask for you." he finished with a slight grin. She smiled back at his answer, letting him walk a bit ahead of her so that he could see what was inside of the truck, "You don't have very many things left." he commented as she walked over to him.

"I'm a very light mover." she easily responded, "Do you mind grabbing that box and bag?" He nodded at her before grabbing the things she asked him to get.

It only took a few more minutes for the two of them brought up the last of her things. After the last trip, she set her box down in the hall so that she could open her apartment door. He glanced around the hall as she did, then followed her inside and set the box he was holding down on the ground.

"Thank you." she gave him another grateful smile, "It would've taken me a lot longer to get everything up here if you weren't around."

"It's not a problem." he gave her a small smile, reassuring her that it was nothing. "I'll let you get to unpacking." he stepped back, only to have her stop him with a question,

"Am I gonna get a name? Or do I have to refer to you to my friends as the mysterious man from next door?" she asked, leaning her hand on the counter. He ducked his head down and raised his eyebrows at the question,

"It's Steve. Just Steve." he answered after picking his head up and giving her a small smile. She nodded at him, a wry smile taking over her features,

"Well, Just Steve, thank you for your help." he nodded at her, not really knowing what else to say and then turned for the door.

Back in the hall, he noticed a box resting against the wall, in between their apartments. Agent Proctor must've forgotten to push it into the apartment before she left. He picked it up, carrying it into his apartment and then setting it down so that he could he jog back down to his truck. He gathered up the rest of his things that were left, using one hand to pull down the truck door. He signaled the driver, who was standing across the street on his phone, and indicated that he was finished getting his things. The man nodded at him, letting Steve understand that he got the message.

Putting the last of his things down in the apartment, he took a moment to look around, hands going to his hips. Even if it wasn't much, having all of his things in his apartment gave him a small sense of comfort. He started to slowly unpack the boxes, grateful that Agent Proctor wasn't there to ask him about certain things he had kept throughout the years. Some of the things were from a time before the serum, some of the things were from the time after the serum.

He wasn't very far into his unpacking when he heard a knock on his door. Brow furrowing, he stepped over to the door, trying to think about who could be at his door. The only person he could think of was Agent Proctor, but she specifically said she wasn't going to be back until that evening. Unless she had decided to come back early or had forgotten something, she was the only one he could think of who could be knocking.

Peering through the eyehole, he saw that it was Kate on the other side of the door, holding a box in her hands. His brow furrowed even more at the sight of her, not sure why she was holding a box, but he opened the door anyway. She greeted him with an embarrassed smile, holding up the the box a bit,

"I think I may have stolen one of your boxes." she admitted, sounding regretful about her mistake. "There were two boxes out in the hall and I picked one up, thinking it was mine, but," she peered into the box, "I do not own a bunch of World War II things." she gave a little laugh as she looked back at him.

"Oh, yeah, that's mine." he reached for the box, feeling his stomach knot up a bit at the mention of the contents of the box. Of course she would take the box that had most of his SSR things. "Guess that means I have your box then." he gave her a slight smile and she nodded, placing her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. He hesitated for a moment before inviting her inside, stepping to the side to let her walk into his apartment.

"Bit of a history buff, huh?" she asked as he gently kicked the door closed and followed her into his apartment. She glanced over her shoulder at him, "I mean, with the box."

"You could say that." he tilted his head to the side and caught up with her, setting the box down on the table and then picking up her box and handing it to her.

"You didn't open it, did you?" she asked, squinting at him. It took Steve a second to realize she was being mock-skeptical. He put his hands up and gave a little laugh.

"I didn't." he shook his head, "Promise." It didn't matter if she was joking or not; he really didn't open the box. He hadn't gotten to it yet, getting lost in some of the other boxes he had.

"Okay, good." she gave him a slight smile, "All of my deep, dark secrets are in here." she made her eyes wide as she shifted her grip on the box so that it was resting against her hip.

"Oh really?" he raised his eyebrows, "Then maybe I should've. Gotten to know my neighbor a little bit better." He didn't know what was getting into him, maybe it was just her presence, but he felt a lot more relaxed with her around and found himself slipping back into how he was before everything happened. It was nice to just be able to joke with someone again and have an easy conversation that wasn't focused on all the things he had been through.

"You could always just hang out with me." she was quick to respond - he was a little taken aback by that. He gave her a raised eyebrow look and pulled the corners of his mouth down, nodding a bit.

There was a small moment of silence as he tried to think of a response. Even though he was feeling a little more relaxed with her, he was never good with ladies, both before and after the serum. Really the only woman he felt natural and himself with was when he was with Peggy, but that was ages ago.

"Well, I'll let you get settled in." He finally said, gesturing to her, "Thank you for returning my box. Even if you did open it and look in it." he added on, getting a laugh-groan from her. She rolled her head back, but it was clear she wasn't offended by his comment.

"I promise not to steal any of your boxes."

"Good." They shared a smile before she patted her box with her hand.

"Okay, well, I should go unpack all my deep, dark secrets." she joked.

"Be careful." She made a face at his advice, eyes going wide as she turned to the door. He stepped up to walk with her, following her to the door.

"I'll try my best." Then, with one last smile, she opened the door and stepped out of the apartment. He shut the door behind her and turned to face his apartment; he was finally alone.

As he went through his day, he waited for that feeling of loneliness to return. He could feel it creeping up, but never fully wrapped itself around him. The boxes weren't just filled with things, but also memories. Memories that were either good or bad. Honestly, even the good memories were tinged with a bit of sadness; they were from a time that was no longer, with people that were no longer around. It usually started to roll over him when he was unpacking the boxes that contained things from the past that were painful reminders of what used to be.

So he ignored those boxes, moving onto the ones that had simpler things with little memories attached to them. He set up little piles around the apartment of things that were similar: leaning the framed pictures up against the wall, stacking the books on the shelves near the door, and some of his records in the cubbies that were under the record player. He hung up his clothes, mixing them in with the things that were already there and placed some of his dishware onto the shelves with the other things.

By the time night fell, he had managed to at least open all of the boxes. Not all of them were fully unpacked; some stuff was just too painful to remember. But he managed to get through the day without the blanket of loneliness fully wrapping itself around him, which was a win in his book.

Right at six pm, there was a knock on his door. This time he was sure it was Agent Proctor - and he was right. He opened the door to see her holding a sandwich in her hand and there was the warm, professional smile on her face.

"Evening, Captain." she greeted him.

"Evening, Agent." he responded as he let her in. She handed him the sandwich, which made him realize he hadn't eaten since breakfast that morning. He gratefully took it and started to unwrap it as she took in the state of his apartment. She didn't comment on it, just taking a step over to the table to put her bag down amongst the mess and getting her notepad out.

"How was the rest of your day?" she asked, glancing over to him.

"Good, productive." he nodded at her before taking a bite of his sandwich. He followed her over to the living room area, sitting down on the couch as she took her place on the chair.

"Seems like it." she said with a pointed sweep of her eyes around the apartment, "Are you feeling a bit more at home now that you have your personal items?"

"A bit." Another nod as she started to take her notes.

"And you made a new friend." she continued, her tone sounding slightly pleased by the new development. He met her eyes, seeing that she was suppressing her smile and he let out a slight scoff, glancing away from her as he shook his head.

"I don't know if she's a friend..."

"Yet." Agent Proctor added on, getting him to look back at her. He raised his eyebrows at her, but didn't respond, "It would be good for you to have a friend." she commented, mostly to herself, before she continued with the conversation, slightly shifting the topic, "She didn't seem to recognize you as Captain America. How did that make you feel?"

"Normal." he responded, before explaining a bit more. He usually didn't mind when people recognized him, but was just a little wary of how they would react when they did. It was different with Kate. She truly had no idea who he was.

At first he thought she was just playing with him, making him feel like she didn't know who he was so that he wouldn't be on edge around her. But during their conversation and short time spent together, he came to the conclusion that she really didn't know who he was. To her, he was Just Steve. And that was perfectly alright with him. He felt like he was Steve Rogers once again, someone so many people had forgotten about - replacing him with Captain America instead.

"You should ask her to hang out." Agent Proctor suddenly said, tapping her pen against her chin. His eye went wide at her comment, face heating up at the suggestion.

"What? No." he scoffed out, rolling his eyes and trying to show that he wasn't affected by her comment.

"Why not?" she asked, shifting in her seat, "It's the 21st century, Captain, women and men can be friends now." She was slightly teasing him, he realized this, but it still made him blush at the thought of hanging out with Kate. She had brought that up to him as well and he had ignored it. But it was clear that it was something he should do.

"Yeah, but I barely know her." he gave an excuse.

"Which is why you ask her to hang out." She gestured with her hand, "Get to know her a bit more." He took in a breath and glanced away from her. He liked Kate, she was the most normal person he had met since he moved to D.C. (besides Albert). He hadn't made a friend in such a long time though - he had sort of forgotten how to do it. Glancing back at Agent Proctor, he saw that she was waiting for his answer to her suggestion.

"Maybe."

"Alright." she nodded, "I can live with that." She gave him a quick smile before moving on.

As they talked about the rest of his day, Steve's thoughts kept drifting back to what she had mentioned about needing a friend. He knew she was right, but he was unsure how to go about it. His first and last real friend was Bucky; they had been friends since childhood. He didn't really consider the Avengers as true friends, just co-workers. He trusted them to have his back and work with him, but it was unlike the trust he had formed with Bucky. They had a brother-like bond and he was unsure if he could ever find something like that again.

Making friends was much different than it was in the past. It was a little more difficult. He was so used to being alone, or people only using him for their own personal gain that it was hard to differentiate between those who truly wanted to be his friend and those who were just looking to use him. He needed to be able to trust them and be sure that they weren't playing him.

And some of it had to do with his own personal growth, becoming more comfortable with himself and unlearning some of defense mechanisms that he had brought on himself after years of being used by SHIELD. He was protecting himself from getting hurt by someone he fully trusted, which was why he was hesitant to open up to Agent Proctor. He was beginning to like her as a person, but he didn't trust her...yet.

The conversation was coming to a close when Steve remembered something from earlier in the day. When she introduced herself to Kate, she used her first name - or at least the first letter of her first name. He paused, getting her attention and an expectant look.

"Say what's in your head." she prompted him, folding her arms over her notepad. He took in a breath and raised his eyebrows a bit before leaning forward, placing his arms on his thighs,

"This morning, you introduced yourself to Kate as 'Q.'" he mentioned, "I was just...wondering if that...was your actual name." he finished, not really sure how to word his question.

"Oh," she straightened up in her seat for a second before waving her hand in the air, "It's just a nickname. Something my friends call me." she rolled her eyes a bit, making it seem like it was no big deal, "Figured it was better than having her ask about the whole Agent thing." She made her eyes wide and took in a breath. She paused for a moment before gesturing to him, "You can call me Q, if you'd like." she offered, giving him that warm, professional smile.

He paused, noticing how she looked kind of nervous about giving him permission to call her by her actual name. Since spending so much time together, he noticed that she had a clear line that separated her professional life from her personal life. And by offering him the opportunity to call her by her actual name, felt like he was pushing his toe against the line - he wasn't sure if she was ready for that.

"I think I'll stick to 'Agent' for now." Steve responded, putting his hands up. Plus, she had mentioned that it was something her friends called her and they weren't friends...yet.


	10. progress

"Okay, but why even give me one?" Dawson asked, walking next to her as he twirled his Twizzler in his free hand. The other hand held the one of the five packets she had painstakingly put together the previous night. One went to Sharon, another she gave to Captain Rogers after his run - which he left at his apartment, while she had the other two in her hands, "The only part not redacted is the small paragraph that mentions my work on the VITAL."

"The what?" she asked him, brow furrowing and making him sigh and roll his eyes.

"Vitals Information Tracker And Log -" he stopped himself, noticing her confused look. He stopped walking and took in a breath, "The FitBit." He gestured to her. "Jesus, why do I even try..." he mumbled to himself, obviously annoyed. She let her mouth open a bit and nodded before shaking her head.

"Because that's all you need to know." Dawson gave her an unamused look before flipping the packet closed.

The two of them stepped into the elevator, she called out the floor they needed to go to - up to Fury's office. Q continued to go through her report, making little notes in the margins of things she wanted to remember to point out or talk about with Fury. She had Fury's copy of the report underneath hers, shifting the two so that she could mark the tabs she thought were more important than others. The debrief between the two was bound to be the longest of their debriefs; it was their first one. She was prepared to go through the main points, but wanted to make sure he had everything so there weren't any questions.

Every night, for the past three weeks, Q had transcribed her conversations with Captain Rogers into a massive Word document. It was split up from there: the ones in the morning, the ones in the evening and the ones throughout the day that were recorded while they were out. She went in depth in reporting how he acted and reacted during certain outings, making sure everything was factual. Her opinions were handwritten in and would be mentioned during her conversation with Fury. Her graphs and charts were in a different section, the tabs sticking out of the ends of the packet making it easy to flip to whatever section they were talking about.

By the time she was done, the report was thicker than she originally thought it would be. But since not everyone involved needed to know everything, she had to personally go through and redact certain sections. It had taken her pretty much the entire night, but she knew it was worth it. There was so much the two of them did and so much she needed to report on, organization was key when it came to reporting on her asset. Plus, it would be easier to refer back to the dated packets to see the progress rather than going in search through massive documents or handwritten notes.

"So why do you need me?" Dawson asked, as the elevator doors opened, still vaguely annoyed about not having the full report.

"Because I need someone to be with Captain Rogers while I meet with Fury." she simply answered him, eyes on her packet as they walked down the hall. He stopped walking, giving her another unamused look as she continued to walk away from him, not realizing he had stopped. When she did, she glanced to the side, doing a double take before looking over her shoulder at him.

"What?" she innocently asked, raising her eyebrows at him.

"You want me to babysit him? Really?" he sounded annoyed. She took in a breath and stepped forward, pressing her packets to her chest.

"Well, Sharon can't very well do it." She made her eyes wide, reminding him of Sharon's undercover status. Dawson rolled his eyes, letting out a scoff.

"Whattya want me to do with him? Take him on a walk?"

"No, I need you to show him his new suit and shield that you've been working on, set him up with SHIELD's mission database and get everything ready so when Fury clears him, he can start going on ops." she explained, going into more detail. His unamused look stayed in place as he took in a breath through his nose.

"Fine." he gave in. She gave him a winning smile before turning and continuing down to Fury's office.

As they got closer to the office, she noticed that Captain Rogers was leaning against the wall next to the door. His arms were crossed over his chest, as were his ankles. Her brow furrowed at the sight of him; he was supposed to be talking to Fury for at least another twenty minutes. They had arrived at the Triskelion in the mid morning, Q leaving him with Fury so they could talk about his progress. While he and Fury were talking, she went to drop her things off at her office and to find Dawson.

Captain Rogers turned at the sound of their approach, pushing off of the wall and straightening up. His hands dropped from his chest to settle at his hips and she found herself involuntarily straightening up as well. She gave him a warm smile, trying to mask the confused look that had appeared at the sight of him.

"Captain." she greeted him.

"Agent." he gave her a nod before quickly glancing over to Dawson, then back to her.

"How was your meeting with Director Fury?" she asked. She was curious as to why the conversation had been so short, wondering if something went wrong.

"Fine." he answered her. She knew he wasn't going to go into details in such a public place, especially in SHIELD and especially with a stranger standing right next to her. She nodded at him before turning her attention to Dawson.

"Captain, this is Agent Twenty-One -" she gestured to Dawson. Captain Rogers held his hand out for a handshake as Dawson stepped forward. He clasped Captain Rogers' hand and did some sort of handshake that confused Captain Rogers - who was clearly expecting a regular handshake.

"Hey, man." Dawson greeted him, "Dawson." He let go of Captain Rogers' hand and then took a step back. Captain Rogers looked at his hand for a moment before looking at Dawson, giving him a nod.

Q watched the interaction: part of her wanting to sink into the floor from how casual Dawson was being with her asset, and part of her wanting to laugh at Captain Rogers' reaction to Dawson's unprofessionalism. It clearly surprised him and she hoped he didn't take it the wrong way. Dawson just needed to show him that he was cool and casual, even though he was nervous as hell.

"Dawson will be taking care of you while I am meeting with Fury." she explained, getting Captain Rogers' attention. "But if you need anything, don't hesitate to get in contact with me." She tried to gauge his reaction to being with someone from SHIELD who wasn't her.

She knew his feelings toward SHIELD and their agents, but this was a chance for him to go outside of his comfort zone. She could already practically see her charts and graphs spiking with the new environment he was being pushed into. He took in a breath, glancing back to Dawson, who was finishing his Twizzler, then back to her. His jaw clenched for a quick moment; clearly he didn't trust him, but he nodded in response.

"Okay." she nodded at him, "I'll find you when I'm finished." she said to Dawson. He nodded at her, then gave her a grin, which she tried to take as a reassuring smile and not as a plotting one.

Stepping into Fury's office, she shut the door behind her, seeing that he was behind his desk. She crossed over to it, getting his attention. He leaned forward in his chair as she placed the report on his desk. Taking it in his hands, he flipped through it before glancing up at her, expectant.

"That contains everything that has happened since I was assigned to Captain Rogers." she stated, nodding to the report. Fury took in a breath and sat back in his seat, "There are a few sections that I marked that I feel are important to discuss." she continued, still standing.

"Take a seat, Proctor." Fury seriously ordered. She didn't hesitate, tucking her skirt underneath her as she sat down in the chair across from him. She placed her copy of the report on her lap and crossed her ankles, making sure she was sitting up straight.

"My conversation with Rogers lasted about ten minutes." he continued, tone serious, "Apparently, he's fine." he looked over at her, raising his eyebrows up. Q had to stop herself from letting out a frustrated breath, "So tell me, if he's fine, then why do we need this?" he asked, tossing the report onto the desk and having it land with a thump. She eyed it for a moment before shifting her gaze back to Fury.

"Because it shows you how he's not fine." she seriously answered him, maintaining eye contact, "He's making progress, but it's slow."

"Why?"

"I believe it's because he doesn't trust me." she answered with a casual shrug. That was obvious to her.

"So make him." Fury responded, leaning back in his seat.

"Trust is earned, sir."

"You think I don't know that?" he asked back, giving her a look. She swallowed and let her eyes drop from his face. There was a moment of silence before she gathered herself back up.

"Sir, if you look at section four, it outlines his interaction with Agent Thirteen," she started, getting back to the task at hand, "You can see how all of the outputs show this was when he felt most normal. Not only did he verbally say it, but the VITAL Agent Twenty-One created also picked up on it."

"The what?" Fury asked as he glanced at the section she was referring to.

"The FitBit." she clarified, "Section one, subparagraph fifteen." he flipped to the section, reading over what the FitBit did. Nodding to himself, he looked back at the section previous for a moment before she spoke again, "Based on this, I am suggesting we begin to take a heuristic approach with Captain Rogers."

"How do you mean?" he asked, looking over at her.

"By slowly pulling myself away from him, very slowly," she was quick to correct herself, "It's only been about three weeks, but you and I both know that he's a capable, able bodied man. He doesn't need a twenty-four hour caregiver, just someone to talk to."

"Get to the point, Proctor." Fury motioned to her and she nodded, shifting a bit and leaning forward.

"We should let him do more things on his own." she suggested, "Enable him to discover and learn some things for himself." She watched him turn over what she suggested.

It was something she had decided to bring up after spending the last few weeks with Captain Rogers. Not that she was tired of spending all of her time with him, but she knew he didn't always like to have her around. He needed to feel like he still had his freedom and wasn't just another lab rat or circus monkey. He needed to be able to go out on his own and discover the world for himself.

"Not yet." Fury shot her idea down. Q tried not to visibly deflate at the answer, instead pursing her lips and nodding. But he knew her, and knew she needed to hear why he denied her offer, "You said it yourself. He doesn't trust you yet. How can you be sure he'll tell you what happened or how he felt about it?" She took in a breath, knowing he was right.

"Understood." she forced a smile on her face and nodded, "If you go to section three…" she started, getting back into the real reason for their meeting.

Of course it was too early to let Captain Rogers be on his own for the entire day. Something could happen, or they would experience something that would need to be discussed right away. She may have trusted him to handle himself, but he surely didn't trust her. She had hoped that the previous three weeks would be enough to gain his trust, but it was clear that he was more untrusting than she thought. Whether that was because of his experiences with SHIELD or something else remained to be seen.

The rest of the meeting was spent going over the last three weeks of her time with Captain Rogers. She explained their daily routine and what changes were made from the original schedule. How she let Captain Rogers make most of the decisions so he felt like he had some control over his day. They discussed his second visit with Peggy - which lasted longer than the first one, and how it positively affected him. Fury asked about Captain Rogers' interaction with Agent Thirteen and why Q decided to leave him alone for it. Q hesitated for a second before explaining, slightly anxious about the ramifications, but he took her answer and moved on. Not everything in the report was covered, but the important things were.

"Well, Proctor, you've exceeded my expectations." Fury complimented her as he closed the packet. Q couldn't help but brighten at the praise; he didn't usually give out compliments so when he did, she knew it was legitimate.

"Thank you, sir." she gave him a smile and nodded.

"I'll see you in two weeks. Maybe then we can discuss some ideas for your heuristic approach." he ended the conversation. She shut her packet and got to her feet, pressing the report to her chest.

Going to leave the office, she turned back, remembering something she needed to ask him, "Sir, did you see my request?" she asked. Fury stood up from his chair and nodded.

"Unfortunately, I can't allow you to do that." he answered her. A pang of disappointment shot through her chest, but she kept her face neutral. She gave him an understanding nod, forcing a smile on her face,

"Thank you, sir." she turned away from him and crossed over to the door.

Once outside of Fury's office, she slumped down, letting a defeated sigh escape. She was disappointed that he didn't approve her request to take Captain Rogers to New York for his birthday. It would've been his first trip back since moving to DC and she thought it would be a good gift for him, a nice way for him to enjoy his birthday. Even though she had made a bare bones plan, he would be in charge of whatever they did. Unfortunately, she would just have to figure something else out.

Since her meeting with Fury had lasted most of the afternoon, she figured Dawson had completed all the tasks with Captain Rogers. She went on a search to find them, starting where Captain Rogers would be getting his fitted for his suit and shown his new shield. Seeing that they weren't there, she continued, trying to think of other locations they could be at. After going through all of the places that she could think of where they could be, she went back to her office, wanting to get her phone to text Dawson.

When she opened her office door, she found Dawson and Captain Rogers in the room. Dawson was sitting in her chair, feet up on her desk, while Captain Rogers was standing off to the side, looking incredibly out of place. She noticed he had her Rubik's cube in his hands, twisting it so that all the sides were messed up again. That had taken her weeks to figure out.

At her entrance, Captain Rogers straightened up, but looked like he was caught - Dawson, couldn't care less.

"Finally." he groaned, taking his feet off of her desk. She wanted so badly to shoot daggers at him with her eyes, but kept her face neutral since Captain Rogers was also in the room.

"Did you get everything taken care of?" she asked, eyes on Dawson. He got up from his seat and nodded.

"Yep. Had a nice little day together." he grinned at her before glancing over to Captain Rogers, who gave her a nod. He continued to fiddle with the Rubik's cube, only to stop when her gaze dropped down to it.

"Good to hear." she looked back at Dawson and nodded before turning her eyes to Captain Rogers, "Did you eat?"

"Ah, no." he shook his head. She suppressed to urge to glare at Dawson, instead forcing a warm smile on her face.

"Then let's get out of here and get you something to eat."

"Oh, mind if I come?" Dawson asked, raising his eyebrows up.

"Don't you have work to do?" she asked him, giving him a look. He slouched down and muttered something under his breath that she pretended not to hear. She stepped to the side, letting him have room to leave her office. Before he did, he stepped over to where Captain Rogers was still standing.

"Nice hanging out with you, man." he reached out to him and their hands connected. They repeated the handshake Dawson had done earlier in the day and this time, it looked a bit smoother, like Captain Rogers had gotten the hang of it. And when it was finished, he looked a little proud of himself for completing it the right way.

"Dawson." Captain Rogers nodded at him, a small smile on his face. Q met his eye and twisted her mouth to the side, trying not to smile at the obvious bro-lationship that was developing between the two men.

"See ya." Dawson turned back to her, giving her a two finger wave before stepping out of the office.

After Dawson left, she looked back to Captain Rogers, raising her eyebrows up and giving him a warm smile. Then her eyes shifted down to where he was still holding the Rubik's cube. He glanced down at it before looking back at her, handing it out to her.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to ruin it." he apologized, looking a little embarrassed, "I didn't know it...did that." he gestured to the cube, "And then I tried to fix it and I think I just...messed it up even more." he sighed out, sounding defeated.

"It's okay." she took it from him, waving him off, "It's a Rubik's cube. You're supposed to mess it up after you finish it." she assured him, not wanting him to feel bad. He opened his mouth a little bit and nodded at her explanation, brow furrowing slightly at the name of the toy. She watched him dig into his jacket pocket and pull out his notebook, jotting something down.

She set the Rubik's cube back on her desk, then grabbed her messenger bag, shoving the report she had gone over with Fury into her bag. Picking up her bag and slipping her body through it, she untwisted the strap so it lay flat on her shoulder.

"Ready?" she asked him with another warm smile. He nodded at her, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets.

Deciding to do something different than their usual meal, Q took him to a pizza place that was right off the island. A place she would sometimes stop in when she worked late and needed to grab dinner on her way home. Since it was the lull between the lunch rush and the dinner rush, the place wasn't very busy. But she didn't want to stay anyway, knowing he would want some fresh air after being stuck in the Triskelion all day.

"Pizza?" Captain Rogers asked as they stepped into the pizza joint. She nodded, not looking back at him as she led him to the counter.

"You know what pizza is, right?" she turned her body to look at him, wanting to make sure that she didn't get her history wrong. His mouth quirked up in an amused grin at her question.

"I'm from Brooklyn, I know what pizza is." he assured her, "Just a little unsure if they do." he glanced around the floor before finally looking at the menu. She twisted her mouth to the side, trying not to react to his candor, but she did like when he was casual with her.

"It suffices." she promised him before ordering four plain slices: two for her and two for him. The slices were slid over the counter to them and she handed him his plate before paying for their meal.

Over the past few weeks, he had gotten better about asking her how much his was or offering to pay, but she knew he still wanted to try and pay for himself - something she never allowed him to do.

Once they both had their slices, they stepped outside and Q raised her pizza in the air, almost cheering him. He took one slice in his hand, folding it in half before taking a bite of it. She watched him for a moment, wanting to see his reaction. He nodded as he thoughtfully chewed his bite, then swallowed and met her gaze.

"It does suffice." he agreed, getting a grin from her. She nodded back at him before picking up her slice and folding it in half. She took a bite from the tip, then moved up so she could use the same bite on the crust too.

The pizza joint was close enough for them to walk to the Lincoln Memorial, so she decided that would be where they would go next. She saw the brief flash of confusion appear across his face when they started walking away from her car, but he kept quiet. As they walked, people were starting to get out from work and Q watched them go about their daily lives, keeping quiet as they walked. She stole a few glances at Captain Rogers, watching him eat his pizza. He looked a bit more relaxed than he did back in the Triskelion. The pizza definitely helped - at least that's what she told herself.

"What's the best pizza you've ever had?" she asked, starting up the conversation and keeping it casual. There was no need to dive into his day at the Triskelion, that could wait until they got back to his apartment.

"Totonno's." he answered after thinking for a moment, "On Coney Island." he nodded to himself and Q waited for him to continue, knowing of the place, but wanting to hear about it from him, "It'd be the first place we'd go when we got there and then the last place we'd go before we left." He ducked his head down, trying not to show her that he was smiling at the memory.

"We?" Q asked, already having a feeling of who he was talking about.

"Me and Bucky." he explained, taking in a breath, "We used to go to Coney Island in the summer, take the train in and spend all of our money on games and rides." Another small, quick smile appeared at the fond memory, but then he cleared his throat and picked up the rest of his first slice, "This pizza doesn't even compare." he got back on track, obviously not wanting to linger on the past anymore. Q nodded, understanding that talking about anything that had to do with Bucky was still off limits. She also knew that he wasn't really talking about the pizza not comparing to Totonno's, but everything - nothing compared to his past life in Brooklyn.

"Trust me, not a lot does." she agreed, picking up her pizza and taking another bite out of it. She chewed thoughtfully, an idea forming in her head, "There are a few places though." she nodded to herself, knowing his eyes were on her, "We could go to them sometime, if you'd want to." she glanced over to him, eyebrows raising, "Like a DC pizza tour." she suggested. He slowly nodded at her, thinking it over for a moment.

"That could be fun." he seemed interested in it, which was a win for her. Twisting her mouth to the side, she ducked her head down, trying not to show how happy his simple agreement made her. Every time he agreed to do something she suggested, she felt a little better about herself - like she was doing it right.

Starting on her second slice, she stood in front of the Lincoln Memorial, Captain Rogers next to her. They were quiet, looking up at the Memorial and taking it all in. If she was being honest, she rarely visited the national monuments littered around. They had history behind them, sure, but to her they were like how Times Square was to New Yorkers - just another tourist trap.

"It seemed much bigger back in my day." Captain Rogers commented as they looked at it.

"Do you remember when it was built?" He nodded at her question.

"Only saw it in person once before. In passing, during the USO tour." he explained. She nodded, chewing on her pizza.

After seeing it from the outside, the two of them walking into the memorial, getting an up close and personal look at the massive statue of Lincoln. They stood there for a moment, eating their pizza and studying the statue. She thought back to the first time she visited the memorial on a class field trip. They learned the history behind the statue, what else happened on the steps of the monument and why it was so important. All Q could think about was climbing on it.

"You ever think about climbing on it?" Captain Rogers suddenly asked, getting her attention. She gave him a surprised look; once again it was like he read her mind. But she quickly masked it, pulling down the corners of her mouth and shaking her head.

"No." she lied.

Continuing on from the Lincoln Memorial, they started walking to the next nearest monument. They passed by the Three Servicemen statue and Q kept walking, not realizing that Captain Rogers had stopped to read the plaque in front of the statue. It took her a minute to figure out that he was no longer next to her - doing a double take at the empty space. Her heart dropped to her stomach; she lost him. Quickly, she whirled around, scanning the immediate area for any sign of him. Which was when she spotted him standing in front of the statue, reading the plaque and then looking up at the statue.

Relieved that he hadn't disappeared on her, she made her way back over to him. He was finished with his pizza, holding the empty plate in his hand. She stepped up to him, taking his trash and getting his attention. There was a trashcan a few feet away from the statue which Q deposited their trash into, glancing over to see that he was finished looking at the statue and walking over to meet her.

The two of them were quiet as they walked; both of them thinking of their days. She started to think back to her conversation with Fury. It was clear that even though he thought she was doing well with Captain Rogers, Fury was still the one controlling the operation. He had shot down both of her requests, but that didn't mean she couldn't try to do her own thing. She had toed the line once, she could do it again, knowing how far she could go without getting in trouble. She knew her boundaries, both self-given and professionally given.

And she was beginning to let Captain Rogers toe those self-given boundaries, if he wanted to. The week prior, after their conversation about his feelings toward his interaction with Sharon, Q had offered him an opportunity to call her by her name, not her title. In doing so, it would've shifted their relationship ever so slightly into the more casual zone - something she was nervous about doing, simply from a personal standpoint. He had declined, which was another reason why she knew he didn't trust her. He still associated her with SHIELD, a division he didn't trust at all.

While she understood where he was coming from, she couldn't help but take it personally - even though it was her fault. She had started out with the intent to stay professional around him, so he was aware that she was SHIELD, but she was learning that he felt more normal around people who weren't associated with SHIELD, like Albert and "Kate" and hell, even Peggy (mostly because he didn't truly associate her with SHIELD).

Slowly, he was becoming a little more relaxed around Q, but it was taking a lot longer than she realized. There were moments throughout the past week where she regretted ever starting so professional; it was harming her relationship with him. But, she wasn't about to drop her professionalism in front of him altogether - that not only made her nervous, but would also give him whiplash. It would have to be slow, in accordance to how he was starting to relax around her. Through the past week, there had been small moments where progress was made, but she was getting impatient and needed to find some way to gain his trust so he could feel comfortable enough to act like he did around Albert, "Kate" and Peggy.

Wanting him to be comfortable around her and have him know that she trusted him was part of the reason why she suggested to Fury about taking a more heuristic approach. If Captain Rogers felt that she trusted him to be on his own, it would show him that she was someone he could trust. It would just make things so much easier for her.

Pulling herself out of her thoughts, she realized that once again, Captain Rogers had wandered away from her. She cursed under her breath as she looked around for him. They were at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, which was about two acres - he could be anywhere. To stop herself from freaking out, she reminded herself what she was just thinking about: how she wanted to give him a bit more freedom to do his own thing, make him feel like she wasn't his shadow. Obviously, there was still a part of her that worried where he went; she didn't mean for it to happen so soon, in such a large area and if she couldn't find him, Fury would probably kill her.

Her search began at the Memorial Wall. For a Friday afternoon, the Wall was bustling with tourists and families all looking at the names of those who gave their lives for their country. She was tall enough to see over some heads and kept an eye out for the dirty blonde superhero swoop of hair that was attached to Captain Rogers. As she walked down the Wall, a knot in her stomach began to grow - she was so stupid for letting him wander off, especially in such a crowded place. Sure, there were people around at the Lincoln Monument and during their walk to the Vietnam Memorial, but this was a dense crowd. No doubt would it trigger something in Captain Rogers, forcing another panic attack. She was worried about the state she would find him in.

The crowd started to thin out the closer she got to the end of the Wall. This made it easier to spot him where he stood at the very last panel on the Wall, hands in his pockets, jaw clenched tightly as his eyes scanned the names on the Wall. She wondered if he had read all of them on his walk to the end.

Stopping a few steps back, she carefully watched him. She could tell that he was lost in his own thoughts. It happened often, he would see something or experience something that reminded him of the past and it would start to consume him. Her heart ached, wanting nothing more than to get him away from the monument and to someplace that would help him focus on something else.

"Captain." she got his attention, having stepped up to him, but kept her hands clasped in front of her. He looked over at her, eyebrows raising as if he forgot she was there with him. He cleared his throat and nodded at her, greeting her silently.

"Are you okay?" she asked, genuinely concerned. She knew he wasn't going to give her a real answer, but that could be saved for later when they were back at his apartment.

"I'm fine." he answered with another nod. For now, that was all she needed to hear. He turned away from the Wall, facing her with a tight smile. Even though he was trying to look unbothered, she could tell that his fists were clenched in his jacket pockets. It would be best for both of them to leave the memorial and find something else to do. Luckily, an idea was forming in Q's head already; she knew of a place that would not only be something new for him, but hopefully improve his mood.

The cheerful music of the froyo place welcomed them as they stepped into the shop. There was one family in the place, but other than that, it was pretty empty. Q figured it would get busier after the dinner hour passed, but she wasn't complaining. A busy froyo place would just overwhelm Captain Rogers even more so; it was already his first time at the place - there didn't need to be more unknown variables in such a small space.

"What is this?" he asked, taking in the decor and aesthetic of the bright froyo place.

"Froyo." she answered, throwing her arms out to motion to the floor. She let him take in for a moment, his brow furrowing at her answer; he clearly didn't know what froyo was.

"Short for frozen yogurt." she explained, getting him to look at her, still confused, "It's like ice cream, only slightly healthier." The corners of his mouth went down and he nodded, seemingly intrigued by the new dessert she had offered him.

She started him off, handing him an empty cup and explaining the process. It wasn't like she didn't think he couldn't figure it out for himself, but she wanted to make sure he understood. Letting him go first, she watched as he chose the vanilla flavor and had to suppress a groan. Of course he would go with the most normal flavor. She chose her flavor - Irish Mint, then moved on to the toppings bar. As she surveyed her choices, she stole a glance at him, seeing his eyes were wide at the different things he could put on his froyo.

This time, she made the first move, reaching for the chocolate chips and using the spoon to sprinkle them onto her froyo. Then she grabbed the pretzels, tossing a few in before moving on to the mini nonpareils. She topped off her dessert with some chocolate sauce, happy with her choices.

Captain Rogers had finished putting his toppings on his froyo at the same time she did and they moved to pay. She set hers on the scale, gesturing for him to do the same. The cashier calculated their total and Q paid for them, grabbing them each a plastic spoon before she got back her change.

There was a bench outside of the building that the two of them sat down on. The busy post-work rush had died down. People were enjoying dinners with their families or getting ready for the next day. She peered over to inspect Captain Rogers' froyo, seeing that there were a lot more toppings than she had. Her brow furrowed as she looked up from his froyo, meeting his eye.

"What did you end up getting?" she asked, seeing all the different toppings, but not knowing how many were in the cup.

"Vanilla with some strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, chocolate jimmies, cookie dough, M&Ms, and uh those guys." he motioned with his spoon to the bright rainbow cereal pieces.

"Fruity Pebbles." she filled in the blank. He nodded at her then shifted so he could pull out his notebook and write down what she said on the page he was filling up.

"That's a lot of fruit, Captain." she pointed out, even though it was a nice balance of fruit and candy.

"I thought it was supposed to be a healthier option." he responded, tilting his cup toward him to inspect the toppings he chose. His brow furrowed and that's when she realized he thought he had done it wrong.

"It can be." she sat back against the bench, trying to reassure him, "Most people go for the candy though." she tilted her cup to the side so he could see the amount of chocolate she had put in.

"What did you get?" he curiously asked.

"Mint with chocolate chips, pretzels, nonpareils and chocolate sauce." she pointed out all of her toppings as she named them.

"That's a lot of chocolate, Agent." he commented, using the same tone she had with him. She twisted her mouth to the side, trying not to smile. Again with the casualness.

"To each their own." she shrugged before digging her spoon into her froyo. The two ate in silence for a moment before she spoke up again, "How is it?" she asked, raising her eyebrows expectantly. He put another spoonful in his mouth as he nodded,

"Really good." he said once his mouth wasn't full, "Different than ice cream, but a good different."

"Good." she grinned to herself, letting herself relax a bit against the bench as she continued to eat her froyo.

"How's yours, Agent?" he politely asked. She did a double take at the question, never expecting him to ask her something in return - even though he almost always did so. She nodded at him, making a face,

"Pretty good." she twisted her spoon around in the cup, watching everything mix together before glancing back over at him, "Do you want to try some?" she offered her cup to him. He paused and she knew he was internally debating with himself about her offer.

After a moment, he nodded and leaned forward, letting his spoon quickly scoop a small part of it out. She watched him stick his spoon into his mouth, tasting her froyo and toppings, and a part of her was nervous for how he'd react. When he was finished, she raised her eyebrows at him, wanting to hear his thoughts.

"It's good. Chocolate and mint go good together." he nodded, a small smile on his face. She felt herself relax a bit at his positive reaction. Then, he tilted his cup toward her, offering his, "Would you like to try mine?" She shrugged, wiping off her spoon before dipping it into his cup.

Placing her spoon in her mouth, her tastebuds were attacked by a lot of different flavors at once. She couldn't help the disgusted face she made at the taste. He noticed, eyes going wide at her reaction and her hand immediately went to cover it.

"Oh my god, Captain." she managed out, not wanting to swallowing her bite, but knowing if she kept it in her mouth, it would just get worse. So she swallowed it, grimacing as she did, "That's disgusting."

"I know." he laughed a bit and her eyes went wide.

"What?" she couldn't help but ask back; she couldn't quite believe what she was hearing.

"I think I put too many toppings on it." he pulled the corners of his mouth down as he looked into his cup. She stifled her laugh, covering her face with her hand again. He looked back over at her, a blush creeping up from embarrassment.

"You said it was really good!" she cried out, waving her hands around as she gave him a wide-eyed look, "Wh-why did you continue to eat it?" she asked, not understanding his thought process. He shrugged.

"I've had worse." She gave him a look before taking in a breath, straightening up in her seat. She shook her head, blinking a bit to recenter herself.

"Here." she handed her froyo over, trading him.

"Oh, no, I can't take yours." he shook his head, but she ignored him. She plucked his cup out of his hand and placed hers in there instead.

"You deserve to enjoy your first froyo." she waved off his argument, settling back against the bench, "I'll just pick out the cookie dough chunks." she promised him before gesturing at him, urging him to eat the froyo. He studied her for a moment before picking up the spoon and dipping it into the froyo she had given him.

They continued to eat each other's froyo - her scooping out the cookie dough pieces and avoiding everything else. Their conversation was casual, discussing different froyo combinations and - not that he would outright tell her of course, but she she could tell that their froyo adventure helped him start to relax a bit. And for Q, she considered it a small step toward him becoming more comfortable around her.


	11. sharp contrast

Fury's office door shut behind her as she left Steve alone with the other SHIELD agent she had brought with her. He introduced himself as Dawson. But Steve wasn't sure if that was a first name or last name or a nickname, as Agent Proctor's was. He didn't think names could be this confusing.

"Alright, man, let's go." He turned away from Steve, walking away from him. Not immediately following, he slipped his hands into his jacket pockets, still lost in his thoughts about the agent who was going to be looking after him for the day. Like he was a child who needed to be taken care of.

Before she even had the chance to introduce the two, the immediate thing that stood out to him was how Dawson dressed. It was a sharp contrast to her pencil skirt and blazer; he was dressed in jeans, a shirt with some sort of graphic on it that was covered by a hoodie he had zipped up halfway. His brown hair was shaggy and unkempt, tucked behind his ears and grazing his lower neck. His facial hair resembled a five o'clock shadow - something that was odd considering most SHIELD agents he came in contact with were clean shaven.

There was a very relaxed manner about him, like he didn't care for rules or felt that they didn't apply to him. As soon as he introduced himself, it was very clear that he didn't care who Steve was - the confusing handshake, the way he looked, the almost teasing way he interacted with Agent Proctor... it was the most casual a SHIELD agent had been to him since he had been defrosted.

"Dude! You coming?" Dawson asked out, having noticed that he wasn't walking with him. He raised his arms up in the air, looking a little annoyed at the space between them.

Taking in a breath, Steve started walking toward him, getting him to drop his arms. His look of annoyance turned into one of boredom and Steve realized that he didn't volunteer to look after him while Agent Proctor was in her meeting. The two of them had been paired together against their own accord. He wondered if this was a test - seeing how he interacted with a SHIELD agent who wasn't her.

As he internally debated with himself about how to approach his new, temporary, assigned SHIELD agent, he stepped into the elevator next to Dawson. He called out a floor Steve hadn't been too yet - in fact, he hadn't been to a lot of floors in the Triskelion, but the elevator started to pull them down.

"You haven't been cleared for any ops yet, but Q wants me to get you set up." He was surprised at the usage of her nickname, having thought that Dawson would be a little more professional.

Since Agent Proctor told him that only friends called her by her nickname, he came to the conclusion that the two were friends and co-workers, a small, new fact he had just learned about her. Dawson was looking at him expectantly, waiting for an answer from him, so Steve nodded in response. Sighing, Dawson glanced away from him, looking out the elevator windows as they continued on their descent. The conversation was obviously finished.

When the doors opened, Dawson stepped out first, not even glancing back to make sure Steve was following behind him. But he was - he didn't really have any other options, unless it was to bail completely and leave, which he wasn't about to do (knowing it would get him in more trouble than he wanted). So he followed him into a massive room full of computers, huge screens and plenty of SHIELD agents.

At their entrance, Steve paused while Dawson continued ahead. He took in the scene, noticing how everyone was moving interacting with each other. There were agents in suits talking with those who sat in front of computer screens. It was a hustling, bustling hub that had an energy to it that was similar to the energy he felt during the SSR meetings, only at a higher, more intense level.

Some of the agents glanced at them, some tried not to, while others stared as they walked to wherever Dawson was leading them. He tried not to pay any attention, keeping his head up and eyes straight ahead. There was a lot going on in the operations control deck, it was almost overwhelming. But he tried to take it all in, knowing he was going to start spending time on the floor once he began going on SHIELD sanctioned ops. A part of him wanted the missions he would be going on to be important, make him feel like a soldier again. Another part of him knew that it was going to be doing whatever Fury wanted him to do.

Fury. Their conversation lasted approximately ten minutes. There was nothing Steve felt he needed to talk to him about. Fury asked basic questions that could be answered with yes or no but he found himself saying that he was fine. The meeting was different than his meetings with Agent Proctor. He couldn't put his finger on how, but he just felt like it was. Honestly, he'd rather talk to Agent Proctor than Fury any day of the week. So he kept a lot to himself, not wanting to tell Fury that he was right - that he wasn't okay. He respected Fury, he just didn't trust him. But he owed him, unfortunately, for finding Peggy. And now he was working off that repayment one step at a time.

They had walked through the control deck, going into a smaller room where he watched the SHIELD agent unlock a locker and shove the report into the space. Steve wasn't sure why Dawson had also gotten a report and wondered if it was a similar copy to his. Agent Proctor had given him his copy when she arrived in the morning. He hadn't gotten a chance to look through it yet, but it was thicker than he imagined any report could be. She had taken detailed notes during their sessions, but there was so much more. Clearly, she cared very much about doing her job correctly.

Back on the operations control floor, Steve stood behind Dawson as he clicked at his computer, eyes darting from one screen to the other before looking down at the tablet that was plugged into the computers. The two still hadn't spoken to each other, but he had heard him mutter things under his breath - mostly commenting at the inanimate objects that were being difficult, or talking to himself.

"What do you do for SHIELD?" Steve suddenly asked, curious as to what Dawson's actual role was in the organization. If he had access to the computers on the operations control floor, then he had to have some higher level of clearance. Especially if Agent Proctor trusted him enough to leave the two of them together.

"I am part of the Cyber Division." he responded. His voice wasn't monotone, but there was a bit of exasperation behind it, almost like he felt like Steve should know what he did, "And sometimes I work with the Weapons Division because those guys may be able to shoot a gun, but with aliens running around, guns ain't gonna be the best option." Almost everything he said, he sounded like he was saying something that should be so obvious. "Who do you think made you that thing?" he asked with a slight scoff, standing up and finally turning around to look at him. He gestured to the wrist that the science watch on and Steve moved his wrist in response, looking at how the it lit up at the movement.

"You made this?" he asked, shifting his eyes from the science watch to Dawson's face. He raised his eyebrows up, eyes going wide. He had wondered where Agent Proctor had gotten it, not knowing if she had it specially made or if it was standard issue. Apparently it was something new, made solely for his benefit.

"Yep." he smacked his lips together before shaking his head a little as if it wasn't that big of a deal. Steve looked back at his science watch for a moment before looking back at him, eyebrows raising up,

"You're very smart." He hadn't met anyone this technologically advanced since Tony Stark. And before that it was Howard Stark. He was impressed.

"I know." Dawson scoffed, rolling his eyes. There was a pause before he gestured to him, "C'mon, man, I'll show you what else I made ya." Steve's eyebrows raised even more, not realizing there was more.

"Do you make a lot of the equipment?" he asked, following Dawson out of the operations control deck.

"When Q asks me to, I do." he answered with a slight smirk. He waved his hand around, attention on the tablet in his hands, "Most of the stuff is made by some other guys, I just like to tinker."

The two of them got into the elevator - pulling them down to another floor that Steve hadn't been to yet. He was still curious about Dawson, wanting to know more about him. He was unsure as to how a guy like him ended up in a place like SHIELD. It seemed like he was completely against everything SHIELD stood for - dressing in such a way, acting in such a way, it was like he was still his own person despite SHIELD being his job. Unlike Agent Proctor, who had a very distinct professional persona and a personal persona (or that's what he thought; he hadn't seen it yet)

"Why did you join SHIELD?" Steve asked, hoping his answer could provide some insight. Dawson raised his eyebrows at the question and then let out a scoff, rolling his eyes.

"They made me join. Trust me, it wasn't a choice." he answered, leaning back against the windows of the elevator. Noticing Steve's look of surprise and curiosity, he let out a sigh, shuffling his hand through his hair before explaining, "I got cocky, hacked into their network to help my savings account," A proud smirk appeared on his face, "You'd think a major government organization would make it harder to even find their backend, let alone access it." he shook his head, letting out a scoff before continuing his story, "Anyway, I was so caught up that I made a rookie ass mistake. I didn't even realize they attached a tracker to my IP address…" he trailed off, noticing the blank look on Steve's face, "Stole a bunch of money from them using my laptop, then they tracked me down." he simplified it, "Instead of tossing me in jail, they forced me to join their Cyber Division." Steve nodded, figuring it out. He let his gaze slide over Dawson, taking him in once again after finding out a little more about him.

At first glance, he looked completely non-threatening - someone who didn't know what he had done would assume as much (just as Steve had), but it was clear that he could be considered dangerous. Actually had been considered dangerous at one point. He didn't seem to be ashamed about what forced him into SHIELD and Steve thought it was admirable that he was so open about his past - clearly he had learned to accept it and seemed almost proud of it.

"Alright, man," Dawson started as they walked into the room. He followed, immediately seeing a suit on a mannequin. It was a navy blue color with thick white lines across the shoulder and chest, meeting at a star in the middle of the chest. There were two shoulder straps, a loaded utility belt and a bunch of different pockets littered down the legs. Dawson went over to it, placing his hands on the shoulder and the arm before turning to him,

"Your new suit." he said before reaching to exchange his tablet for something else from the table next to the mannequin. Steve's gaze followed his motion and he saw that he was picking up the matching helmet which was resting by his shield. He had been wondering where that went since the attack on New York.

"Okay, so." Dawson clapped his hand against the helmet, getting Steve's attention, "The design team took your original suit and made some adjustments." he started to explain, "Honestly, your suit was a classic, but it's not ideal for new ops." Steve stepped up to the mannequin as Dawson continued to talk, "This is the stealth suit. It's basically just an upgraded version of your old one." Steve nodded, listening to Dawson explain the new features of his suit.

Ever since the beginning, the suit was always what made him Captain America. It started out as a costume, then became a uniform. As part of his performance in the USO shows, the costume was used as a mascot and symbol of nationalistic pride for the American people. Wearing the colors of the American flag, he was another physical representation of America - just like the flag or the Statue of Liberty.

After freeing those trapped in the Hydra camps, his costume began to morph into a uniform. He and Howard Stark worked together to create a uniform that would be battle appropriate - involving light armor to protect himself, but also keep the same ideals that his USO costume had - which was why the colors of the American flag stayed.

When he became a part of the Avengers Initiative, he found that Agent Coulson had a lot of input in the design of his new uniform. Agent Coulson felt that an "old fashioned" appearance was needed to inspire others, which was why it looked so much like his USO show one, just more modern. But, it still served as a uniform, having the same armor as his previous one had. He felt a little guilty for moving on to a new suit, since Agent Coulson had such a heavy hand in the design.

The new suit had almost no trace of the colors of the American flag, sans the white star in the center of the chest. He listened to Dawson explain the features, realizing that with it's dark coloring and high tech armor, it was meant to be used on special SHIELD missions. Where the previous suits would be an easy target, this suit was made for stealth, just as it's name suggested. The contrast of the new uniform from the old uniform extended into what his missions would be. Secret, undercover ops.

"And your shield." Dawson picked up the shield, handing it out to him. Taking it, Steve let his thumb run over the bullet marks from where Peggy had shot at him when he first got the shield. They never buffed out, unlike some of the other marks from other battles.

Not unlike the uniform, the shield had progressed from a prop to an actual weapon. When he first started with the USO shows, he used the shield to help him remember his lines. It was painted in the same colors as his costume, a part of the propaganda. Then in 1943, the shield transitioned from a prop to a makeshift weapon.

After losing the shield during his rescue mission, Howard made him a new one. Well, he made a bunch of shields, but Steve found himself going for the one that was just a prototype. It was made out of vibranium - the rarest metal on Earth. The shield was designed to go along with his uniform, keeping with the theme of being a physical representation of America and freedom.

The shield was handy during the war and during the attack on New York. It was a good way to defend himself and others from those attacking them. The vibranium made it light, but also incredibly durable - stronger than steel and a third of the weight, completely vibration absorbent Howard had said. And it was true; Steve had survived blasts after blasts simply by blocking them with the shield. Others had guns, he had his shield.

"Gonna be honest with you, man." Dawson sighed, getting him to look over at him, "I'm a little pissed Stark used the only supply of vibranium on your shield." He shook his head, using his free hand to scratch at his facial hair "I mean, it's a nearly indestructible element that can be used for so much more than just a shield - or weapons for that matter…" he trailed off, taking in a breath, "Whatever, try the suit on." he gestured to the suit, "Switch from Clark Kent to Superman."

"What?" Steve asked, brow furrowing as he lowered the shield. Dawson did a double take, then sighed, having realized he didn't get the reference.

"Clark Kent? Superman? Really, man?" he scoffed, offended by the fact that Steve had no idea what he was talking about, "The comics started in the late 30s." Steve shook his head.

"Didn't really have enough money for comics back then. Plus, I was a little more concerned with the War." It was true. Whatever spending money he did come across was almost always used for an adventure with Bucky or a double date. And in order to make that spending money, he was working most of the time and the time he wasn't, he was trying to enlist. Dawson's brow furrowed and then he relaxed, placing his hands on his hips and licking his lips. He looked a little upset by what Steve just told him, with both himself and with Steve's confession.

"Oh, well, uh, he's a superhero, not unlike yourself." he motioned to him, "There's comics and movies and shows…" he trailed off as Steve set the shield down and went into his jacket pocket, pulling out his notebook to write down what he had just said. "What's that? What are you doing?" Dawson asked, a slight panic to his voice.

"Agent Proctor gave it to me." he responded, raising the notebook up a bit, "Whenever I come across something I don't know, I write it down so she can show me." Dawson's eyebrows rose and he pushed out his cheek with his tongue.

"Q thinks of everything, doesn't she?" he sighed, before realizing that Steve was writing down what he had referenced moments earlier, "Oh, man, don't write that down, that's embarrassing. She doesn't need to know that I said that." He reached out toward the notebook, but it was clear that he wasn't actually going to try and take it. His eyes flicked from the notebook to Steve's eyes and he sighed again, "Fine, at least write down RoboCop too." Steve raised his eyebrows at the name, but wrote it down.

After trying on his new uniform and making sure everything fit, Dawson showed him a few of the gadgets he had made to go along with the suit. There was a small device that when pressed against a wall or a window, would allow him to hear what was going on inside the room. There were a few small tokens that were mini tasers as Dawson described them. Everything that he was shown could fit into the sections of the utility belt or in the pockets on the legs.

Steve had to admit that he was continually impressed with Dawson's skills. He was incredibly bright and very good at his job, going above and beyond to create things that would help. He had adapted to his new environment and started to thrive in it. As much as he tried to keep his cool about the gadgets he had made, Steve could tell that he was incredibly proud of his work and wanted the praise.

Once he was finished showing off his gadgets, Dawson moved on to the technical parts of what he was tasked with: making sure Steve was ready for upcoming ops. Steve didn't know what that meant; he figured he would just go on a mission when Fury told him to, but it seemed that it was much more complicated than he realized.

"Have you set up your direct deposit yet?" Dawson asked as they stepped onto the elevator. He shook his head, not even understanding the phrase Dawson used.

"What is that?" he asked, getting a furrowed brow look back. Unlike Agent Proctor, Dawson was repeatedly surprised by how little he knew about the modern world. And he almost always seemed slightly offended by it.

"How you get paid for the ops you do." Dawson explained, "Like money? The green paper stuff that you pay for things for."

"I know what money is." Steve shook his head, smiling a bit at how he was over-explaining things, "Just figured I'd be getting a check or something." Dawson snorted at that.

"Welcome to the twenty-first century, man." he laughed a bit as they stepped off the elevator. They walked through a floor of cubicles - headed for a specific one, it seemed. Steve trailed behind, not wanting to get lost in the maze of cubicles.

"Lillian." Dawson stopped in the entrance of one of the cubicles, greeting the occupant. Steve stood behind him, able to see the young woman sitting on the other side of the desk, typing at her computer.

"What do you want, Dawson?" she asked back, not tearing her eyes from the screen. Steve hid his amused smile by ducking his head - it was clear he and Lillian had a bit of a back and forth history.

"Hoping you could help out my friend here set up his direct deposit." At the word friend, Steve quickly glanced over at him, surprised by it. He didn't realize they were friends. And so quickly too. How did he decide that they were friends? Was it just another term he used like man and dude? Or did he really mean it?

His internal debate was quickly cut off by something being slapped into his chest. He placed his hand over it and looked down to see that it was a file folder. The expression on his face got Dawson to explain,

"Sit down, fill out the forms, and Lillian'll get you set up." he placed his hand on Steve's shoulder, rubbing it in a very casual way. The motion was similar to the one Bucky would always do when talking to him or introducing him to girls - a move a friend did. It made him feel like he was back to being the little guy he was before the serum.

First the strange handshake, now the shoulder rub...Steve was confused as to why Dawson was acting this way around him. He was so used to SHIELD agents being professional and respecting him, not treating him as a person, but an asset.

Still, he did as Dawson prompted, sitting down in the chair across from Lillian. She handed him a pen and gave him a nice smile. The light glinted off the ring in her bottom lip and he did a double take, noticing that it was a piercing. Not wanting her to see his reaction, he ducked his head, using the forms as an excuse to furrow his brows. He didn't understand why she would pierce a ring through her lip - it had to be some sort of fashion thing he had missed out on. He would have to remember to write it down so he could talk to Agent Proctor about it.

Just as Dawson said, Lillian did set up his direct deposit account. She was nice enough, putting all of his information into the computer. The whole time, he couldn't stop staring at the lip ring, trying to wrap his head around it. Women back in his day wore clip on earrings in their ears. He couldn't remember any of the ladies having any other types of piercings. He felt that it would be impolite to ask her about it, but watching it move as she talked was mesmerizing. Once they were on the elevator, he jotted down the item in his notebook - he was going to have a lot to talk about with Agent Proctor that evening.

"Well, that was all that was on my agenda for today." Dawson said, leaning against the window of the elevator. "Is there anything else you can think of?" he asked, raising his eyebrows up. Steve pulled the corners of his mouth down and shook his head.

"Not that I know of." Dawson nodded at him and then let out a sigh,

"Guess we'll just go hang out in Q's office until she's done."

Somehow, Dawson got into Agent Proctor's office - since Steve had seen her use her own ID to unlock her office door, he was a little confused as to how Dawson got in without her ID. He chalked it up to being a part of his advanced skill set. While Dawson made himself at home - flopping onto the chair behind her desk, Steve didn't really know what to do with himself. He had been in the office before, but with her, not Dawson.

"Dude, stop standing there like this is your first time in a girl's bedroom." Dawson scoffed out, gesturing to him as he leaned back on the chair, setting his feet up on the desk. Glancing at him, he walked into the room, letting the door shut behind him.

"So...how's hanging out with Q every day?" he asked out, watching him as he crossed in front of the desk, looking at the knick knacks that were resting on top.

"Fine." Steve answered with a nod. He didn't want to talk about Agent Proctor with her friend, thinking it wouldn't be polite. Dawson laughed to himself,

"She's finally hanging out with people her own age." His brow furrowed at Dawson's comment, not understanding it.

"I'm ninety-four."

"Exactly." he raised his eyebrows at Steve making it clear that that was the point. Steve couldn't help but let out a slight laugh at the joke. Obviously, he knew Agent Proctor better than Steve did.

He had to admit that Dawson was growing on him. It was a nice change of pace to be around a SHIELD agent who didn't act a certain way around him. He was someone who treated Steve like he was a person, not an asset or a child or a god-like figure who was to be respected.

"Hey, can you teach me that thing you did earlier?" Steve asked, motioning with his hand, "That handshake thing." Dawson raised his eyebrows up, surprised by the question. Then he dropped his feet from the desk and quickly got to his feet.

"Yeah, man, sure, yeah." He tucked his hair behind his ears and nodded eagerly, "It's actually really simple." He held his hand out to Steve who held out his hand in response.

The handshake was simple. Probably the simplest thing he had ever learned since being defrosted. They went through it a few times and Steve quickly caught on to it. The handshake was something to represent friendship and show that the two were friends. Throughout their day together, he didn't really know if Dawson was playing a game or if he actually believed they were friends. Now, it was clear that he really did think they were friends. It would take a bit for Steve to get to that point - since he was still a SHIELD agent, but Agent Proctor had mentioned something about him making new friends.

As Dawson talked to him about this and that, he picked up the cube that sat on Agent Proctor's desk. He turned it around in his hands, noticing that the sides could be moved. With one motion, he rotated one of the sides, seeing how easily it moved. It was an interesting concept and he was intrigued by the toy she had on her desk. His fingers began to idly twist the rest of the sides as he talked to Dawson and when he looked down he noticed that the sides were all messed up, the colors weren't the same on each side. He tried to fix what he had done, feeling bad about breaking her toy, but before he could, the door opened again.

Agent Proctor entered her office and immediately took notice of the two of them. He quickly straightened up, feeling caught. He had gone along with Dawson's plan of breaking into her office when she wasn't there and he felt like he had broken a rule. As she talked to the two of them, he continued to try and fix her toy, but she had already noticed that he had broken it. Once Dawson left the office, he apologized for breaking her toy - only to find out that it wasn't broken at all. She called it a Rubik's cube, some sort of puzzle. Those seemed to be one of her favorite things to do.

Exchanging one SHIELD agent for another, Steve was left in the capable hands of Agent Proctor. There was a clear shift as he began to spend the afternoon with her. Where Dawson was casual around him, she was how she usually was with him: professional - cautious, like she didn't want to overstep with him. He wondered if she knew how Dawson would act around her and that was why she tasked him to look after Steve.

The pair left the Triskelion where the first item on her to-do was to get him some lunch. It felt like a treat to get not just one slice of pizza, but two. The pizza was decent - nothing could ever compare to Totonno's, but he still ate it. As he did, the two of them walked to the Lincoln Memorial. Even though he was just a kid, he still remembered all the buzz about it when it was being constructed. The newspapers covered it and him and Bucky would always talk about how they wanted to climb it.

On their walk, he paused in front of the Three Servicemen statue. There was a plaque in front of the statue that explained the history and meaning of the statue. The statue was unveiled on Veterans Day, November 11, 1984 as a supplement to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. It was meant to be a more traditional component that depicted warriors from that war. Steve didn't even realize that there were more wars after the war he had fought in - sure he knew about certain battles or fights, but never realized they were wars. The statue was just one part of a massive memorial site that honored those who lost their lives in a war which was just as big as the war he fought in.

As he walked down the Wall which had inscribed names of all those who gave their life in the Vietnam War, he tried to read each name and give his respect to them. A part of him was disappointed that putting the Valkyrie bomber under ice did nothing to stop further wars and loss of life. He was so naive to think so, of course men would fights - there would always be bullies. But there would also always be the ones standing up to them. Which was why he felt guilty. The Wall didn't instill the same sense of overwhelming guilt that the World War II Memorial did, but it was still there. Reminding him that he didn't fight back, that he didn't help those who were fighting.

Agent Proctor found him at the end of the Wall - he hadn't even realized he had wandered off. The last time he ran away from her, she had reprimanded him and he braced himself for the same reminder, but instead she looked concerned. Wondered if he was okay, even though he knew she knew he wasn't, then offered to take him someplace to help cheer him up a little. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't where she brought him.

He didn't understand why people would want a healthier option to ice cream - froyo as Agent Proctor called it. Wasn't the whole point of ice cream to be a treat? Why would people want to make it healthy? There were plenty of flavors - even more than the ice cream flavors he had remembered, but he chose vanilla, not wanting to be risky with something he didn't know. It was at the toppings station where he went a little crazy.

He saw all the different fruits - stuff that didn't usually go on ice cream and he figured since it was the healthier option, that was the way to go. But he did add a few jimmies cookie dough clumps (his mother never let him eat raw cookie dough and now they were encouraging it!) and M&Ms. Right before he stepped away, he spotted some brightly colored cereal pieces. They weren't what Agent Proctor got for breakfast in the diner, but he thought that he could try them.

Quite frankly, his froyo was disgusting. But he had had worst and he wasn't about to tell Agent Proctor that he didn't like it when she had tried to do a nice thing for him - something unexpected. Hers, on the other hand, was delicious. He liked the combination of her mint froyo and chocolate toppings.

And he was being polite when he offered her some of his, never intending for her to try it. But she did and he couldn't help but laugh at the face of disgust she tried to desperately hard to hide. At the realization of how disgusting his was, she gave him hers, letting him enjoy his first froyo. It was another nice gesture and Steve felt himself beginning to relax a bit during their conversation about froyo toppings.

Once back the apartment, they discarded the finished froyo cups and Steve carried her chair over to where it usually was set up across from the coffee table. She was getting her notepad, pen and phone from her bag, thanking him before she sat down. He settled himself on the couch, rubbing his hands against his thighs.

"So how was your day with Agent Twenty-One?" she started the conversation, crossing her ankles and setting the notepad on her lap. He noticed how she had called Dawson by his title and not his name, even though they were friends. She was still being professional and making it clear that there was a line that separated her professional life from her personal life - even though it seemed like her personal life cross pollinated with her professional life.

"You two are friends, right?" he asked her after they were finished talking about his day with Dawson. She nodded, giving him a small smile, "How did you meet?" he continued with another question, genuinely curious as to how the two became friends. They came off as such opposites of each other that it was hard to picture them being friends. And yet, they were.

"We were recruited into SHIELD at the same time." she answered. His eyebrows raised in surprise. During his conversation with Dawson, he made it clear that he was forced into SHIELD. Yet, the word she used made it seem like it was a choice. He wondered if Dawson was exaggerating or if she wasn't telling him the truth.

"Didn't know SHIELD recruited people."

"We recruited you, didn't we?" she asked, a small knowing smile on her face. Steve let out a small amused scoff at that - he was forced, just like Dawson was. She took in a breath, straightening herself up a bit as she continued, "If the person possesses abilities that can be utilized to help advance SHIELD's goals, they can be considered for recruitment." The tone she used when she was explaining things was back - the medical, serious one, sounding like she was rattling off something that had been told to her countless times.

"Why were you recruited?" He asked, knowing it was a long shot that she would actually answer him, but he was curious. After spending the day with Dawson, who was so open about himself, he wanted to know more about her. She paused, took in a breath and then gave him a tight smile.

"Because I had abilities that could be utilized to help advance SHIELD's goals." she answered, repeating what she had said moments earlier. Steve nodded at her, raising his hands up a bit in defense. He understood that she wasn't going to tell him any time soon, but it was worth a shot. Suddenly, he understood how she felt every time she tried to get him to talk about something he didn't want to talk about. And she respected his choice not to, he could do the same for her.

"Did you write anything down in your notebook today?" she asked, changing the subject. Going along with her request, he nodded, reaching into his pocket and taking out his notebook. She stood up, stepping over to the dining room area to get his laptop so he could look up certain things.

As the two of them went through the list of things he wrote down, Steve couldn't help but have an ironic thought: she was trying so hard to get him to lower his walls and yet, hers continued to stay up.


	12. surprises

The rhythmic knocking on his door alerted him to her arrival. It was much later than her usual time - she had let him go on his run alone and it was already close to mid morning by the time she arrived. After his run, he had walked around, gone to the diner, sat there with his coffee and breakfast, then walked back to the apartment. It had taken him a bit to get to his apartment - he still needed to ask her if there was some sort of transportation that he could take. He knew of the subway system and the buses that ran, but he didn't know the routes. Still, he didn't mind the walk, it was nice to walk through the city, especially on a day like it was.

His run might've been early, but by the time he started walking back to the apartment, the crowds were forming to kick off the celebrations. Of course DC would be a popular place for Fourth of July - it was the nation's capitol. There was plenty going on, parades were getting started, small bands were playing, people were everywhere. The Fourth of July celebrations were starting to look similar to the ones he remembered, just on a larger scale. Everything these days seemed to be bigger than it used to be: food, televisions, drinks…even celebrations.

Fourth of July was always a big deal back in his day. The day was a welcome relief from the stresses of living in a country that was seemingly always at war - it was like everyone forgot about what was happening across the oceans. Brooklyn was always buzzing with excitement. He remembered the decorations, the flags hanging from fire escapes, everyone dressing up in their Sunday best, kids running around with sparklers and noisemakers, and all the different kinds of foods. Sometimes he and Bucky would watch the parade together from the fire escape of one of the apartments, other times they would go down to the street and watch the parade, getting food from the different sellers and Bucky would always try to flirt with the girls around them. They would usually end up watching the fireworks with the girls. It was a day filled with friends, food, and plenty of fun.

"Happy birthday!" Agent Proctor greeted him with an excited smile.

And it was also his birthday.

He was surprised by her greeting and the way she greeted him; there was an actual emotion behind it. With the summer getting into full swing, she had started to wear her hair up in a high ponytail so that it was off her neck, but she was still decked out in her blazer and skirt, a small American flag pin on her lapel as if that was the most she could do for the holiday. Then he noticed that she was presenting him with a cupcake that had a candle stuck in the middle. It was vanilla flavored with red, white and blue icing. His eyes darted from the cupcake to her eyes.

"You remembered." His brow involuntarily furrowed; he knew he mentioned it and of course she had his file, but he thought that she wouldn't make it into a big deal or even recognize the day as something special.

"Of course." She looked a little confused by his statement and she shook her head a bit, her ponytail swinging behind her, "It's your birthday." He nodded at her and she motioned with the cupcake, "Make a wish." she encouraged. He reached out for the cupcake, taking it in his hand and bringing it up to a bit.

A moment passed as he thought about what to actually wish for; sure he had wishes, but a lot of them couldn't actually come true and he didn't really want anything else. Still, he blew the candle out, thinking of a simple wish that he could work toward. At the action, she clapped her hands together and the corners of his mouth quirked up at her reaction.

"Thank you, Agent." he twisted the cupcake in his hand and nodded at her, "I appreciate it." She gave him a nod in response, paired with that warm smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Letting her step into his apartment, he followed her to the dining room area. She walked past the boxes that were still in the process of being unpacked - it was something they were working on a bit at a time since some of them contained memories he wasn't ready to relieve quite yet. She set her bag down on the table and looked over to him. He set the cupcake down on the table, brushing his hands together before waiting for her to pull out her notepad and pen so they could get started with their morning talk. But she didn't, instead turning to look at him, hands settling at her hips,

"So," she started, "How do you want to celebrate?" His brow furrowed at her question and he placed his hands on his hips,

"Celebrate? What about our talk?" he asked back, hips rotating as he turned to look over his shoulder at the living room. She shook her head,

"Nope, no talks today." she clasped her hands in front of her, "Today, we're going to celebrate your birthday. Whatever you want to do, we'll do it." She gave him that warm smile. He paused, thrown off by what she just said. He hadn't celebrated his birthday since the '40s, during the war - and at that point it was just he and the Howling Commandos sharing a drink, nothing special about it. Though the men did joke about the irony of Captain America being born on July 4th.

"I don't know." he answered her, shaking his head slightly. "Haven't celebrated my birthday in a while."

"Well, what did you used to do?" she asked, her eyebrows raising. He took in a breath, thinking back.

Before the war, he and Bucky would go to Coney Island or head to the movies if it was too hot. His mom would always make him a cake and make sure he had at least two presents, even if he told her she didn't need to get him anything - he told Bucky the same thing, but that didn't stop his best friend from getting him something. And since his birthday was already on a day of celebration, it was plenty easy for Bucky to find parties that night for them to go to.

Pulling himself from his thoughts, he looked back at Agent Proctor, seeing that she was waiting expectantly for his answer.

"We used to go to the movies." he responded with a slight shrug. Her face brightened at that and she nodded.

"Alright, then let's go to the movies." she clapped her hands together and then reached for his laptop, which was resting on top of the dining table. "Here, find a movie for us." He took the laptop from her and pulled out the chair at the table, sitting down and opening up the laptop.

Over the past few weeks, Steve had gotten better at using his laptop. She had helped him with the basics and let him use Google to look up things he had written down in his notebook. The internet was actually incredibly helpful. It made finding things much easier than it was back in his day.

Though, sometimes, it seemed to be harder than it used to be. Like with the movie times, it took him several minutes to find the right site and the right times. Back in his day, all he had to do was look at the newspaper. But he figured it out. And once he did, he started to scroll through the titles of the movies that were playing, none of them registering with him. There were a lot of sequels so he ignored those, figuring he had to see the ones previous first to understand the current ones.

"Find one?" she asked, coming over to stand behind him and see what he was looking at.

"I think so." he nodded, moving the mouse so it hovered over his selection. He looked over his shoulder at her and she nodded back at him, that warm smile breaking out over her face.

"Okay. There's a showing starting soon, if you'd like to go." she offered. He nodded back at her, "Good. But, I have one more surprise for you before we go." she raised her finger up as she stepped back. There was a slight grin on her face as she picked up her messenger bag. His brow furrowed, unsure of what she was talking about, but he followed her as she walked out of the apartment.

Outside, she led him around the corner to where a motorcycle was parked on the curb. She stopped in front of it and threw her arms out toward the bike. He looked from the bike to her, eyebrows raising as he put it together,

"Surprise!" she sang out, a wide grin on her face.

"This is for me?" he asked back, gesturing to the bike as she lowered her arms. She nodded at him and he stepped closer, examining it. "From who?" he asked, still confused as to who would gift him a motorcycle. The one he had back in New York had been taken by SHIELD a few weeks after the dust had settled. Not that he really needed it - he could take the train and subways.

"From me." she answered him, hands going to grip the strap of her messenger bag. His brow relaxed as he realized what that meant.

"So SHIELD." he corrected her, a sour taste forming in his mouth. If it was a gift from SHIELD, it wasn't a gift. It was something else, something with an asterisk that would come into play later on. A bribe or something. He went to refuse it, but she cut him off,

"No, from me." He turned away from the bike to look at her, brow furrowing even more. She noticed his look of confusion and pulled her shoulders back, gesturing to the bike with her hand, "I bought that for you," she paused, "But I guess since SHIELD signs all of my paychecks, you could technically argue that it's from SHIELD…" she trailed off for a moment before shaking her head, "But this isn't a SHIELD gift, it's a gift from me and only me." She gave him a small, timid smile. Steve was at a loss for words. He certainly wasn't expecting a gift, let alone a gift from her. And one such as the motorcycle that was parked next to him.

"You mentioned how you liked having a motorcycle during the war and then again in New York. Now, that one was nice, but I thought it was time for an upgrade. Figured you could use it to get around the city." she continued at his silence. He blinked, looking back at the motorcycle. "Do you like it?" she asked, sounding a little nervous at his lack of response. He looked back at her, giving her a grateful smile.

"I do. Thank you, Agent. You really didn't have to." She waved her hand in the air, shaking her head,

"You only turn ninety-five once, Captain." she said as if that were a good enough reason for her to buy him a motorcycle. His mouth quirked up a bit at her casualness. She brought herself up and took in a breath, raising her eyebrows up a bit, "Ready to go to the movies?"

They didn't take his new motorcycle to the movies, opting to take her car instead. He would have plenty of time to break in the bike. He still couldn't believe she had gotten him such a gift. It was nice enough that she had remembered his birthday, getting him a cupcake, but the bike was a whole other level of nice. And she looked happy that he had liked it.

Nothing had drastically changed since their small outing after their meetings with Fury at the Triskelion, but things were beginning to change. Slowly. He could feel it. He had been able to see Peggy again after their meeting at the Triskelion and she had been giving him a lot more "freedom." As in, she was letting him do things on his own, like go to the deli or go on his run by himself. He had yet to spend a full day by himself though.

Their talks were still their talks, but he was beginning to like them - and her a bit more than he first did. He didn't quite trust her yet; he felt that she was still keeping some things from him, but he was feeling a bit more relaxed around her. He didn't feel as guarded as he once did, but he still did choose to keep some things to himself, which she respected. At some point, he would tell her everything, but he wasn't ready yet - still a little wary about her relationship with SHIELD.

Overall, it felt like they were on a path toward friendship. Even though she still carried herself as a professional, he did like the moments they were casual with each other or making jokes with each other. It was different from when they began and he had to admit that he was beginning to like having someone around. Someone who could experience the new world with him, show him things that he didn't know about or hadn't done in a while.

For example, the last time he had been to a movie theater to see a film was right before he was drafted. Bucky had to save him from getting beat up by some punk who had been jeering at the war propaganda that played before the film. After that, he had gone to the movies once after with the crew from the USO shows to see the short film he had starred in as Captain America, but he didn't really count that.

Needless to say, movie theaters had drastically changed since his day. The basic concept was still the same, but it just felt different - more modern. There were a lot more options than he had: more snacks, drink options (there was even a bar), and a lot more theaters. At the concessions, Agent Proctor bought herself a small popcorn and a box of M&Ms along with a soda. He stuck with a water and a small popcorn - which was the size of what a large used to be.

Following her into the theater, he took in just how large the showing room was. There weren't that many people in the dark room, on account of it being the Fourth of July, but there were a smattering of seats taken. They settled in the middle of the theater, in the middle of one of the rows. He sat down next to her, noticing that the chairs were a lot more comfortable than they used to be. At the sound of her opening her candy, he glanced over to see her dumping her box of candy into her popcorn.

"What are you doing?" he asked her, keeping his voice a whisper so he didn't disturb the other people. The movie hadn't begun yet, but he wanted to be polite. She did a double take before looking back down at her popcorn,

"Oh, it's just something I do." she shrugged as she shook up her popcorn a bit, "Here." she tilted the bag toward him, "Try it." He eyed the bag for a moment, seeing the colorful chocolate candies amongst the popcorn. Reaching his hand in, he scooped up a small handful and she made sure he had some M&Ms mixed in. He tossed the handful into his mouth, chewing for a moment. The saltiness of the popcorn mixed with the sweetness of the chocolate, creating a taste that he wasn't used to.

"How'd you come up with that?" he asked her after he finished chewing. He didn't hate it, but he didn't love it. It was just something new that he had tried. She shrugged again,

"Don't know, been doing it since I was a kid." she casually answered him. It was the first reference she had ever given him to her childhood. They never talked about her past or her life outside of SHIELD and him. He nodded at her response, taking the answer and settling back in his seat.

"Wanna see something cool?" she asked glancing over at him with raised eyebrows. He raised his eyebrows in response, getting a grin from her, "Move your hand against the side of your right armrest." He did as she prompted, feeling his hand come in contact with a button, "Feel the buttons?" He nodded and she continued, "Press the one in the back." He did so and felt his chair start to move backward and then extending out so he was fully reclined. A grin appeared on his face as he looked over to her; that was cool. She gave him a self satisfied smile and settled back in her seat as he adjusted his so he was in a comfortable position.

Movies were a lot longer than back in his day, plus they had added in references to things he didn't know about. He was starting to catch on to a few here and there, but he still had filled a whole page in his notebook by the end of the film. Since neither of them had seen the film before, he heard Agent Proctor's reactions to what was happening on screen: her little muffled laughs, slight gasps, and other noises she made. It actually made the film a little more enjoyable.

After the credits rolled, the two of them exited the theater, walking outside as they talked about their opinions on the film. Even though the film had taken over two hours of the day, it was still pretty bright out. And there were a lot of people out and about, decked in red, white and blue. She handed him a pair of sunglasses from her bag to help with his baseball cap disguise.

"What next, Captain?" she asked before tossing another handful of popcorn into her mouth. She didn't have a lot left, but was clearly trying to get her money's worth. Which he thought was a smart move; the concessions were so expensive these days.

"Not sure." he gave a casual shrug, slipping his hands into his pants pockets, "Usually we'd just walk around, watch the parades…" he trailed off, not really having a way to end his sentence. She shook her arm out so her blazer fell back up her arm so she could see her watch,

"The parade's already started by now, but we can catch the last bit of it, if you want." she offered. He nodded in response, following her back to her car.

Since the parade route had cut off most of the main roads, she had to park a few blocks away, making them walk the rest of the way. As they got closer to the route, the crowds became thicker and Steve felt his senses sharpen. He wanted to be aware of everything that was happening, just in case something went wrong. He kept close to her, not wanting to lose her in the crowds.

Walking down, against the crowds, the amount of people began to lessen. She stopped at the corner of one of the streets, in a spot that wasn't clustered with people. They had a fine view of the parade that had indeed already started. Fancy looking cars with people waving and tossing out candy slowly drove by as sellers walked up alongside the curb. Agent Proctor purchased two little American flags, handing one to him with a grin. He let himself smile at the gesture and spun it in between his fingers.

"Is it weird to have your birthday on a holiday?" she asked at one point, glancing over to him. He frowned, giving her a shrug.

"Not really." he paused, "I mean, sometimes I forget that it actually is my birthday because of...all this." he gestured widely to the parade, "But it's like having your birthday on Thanksgiving or Christmas." She nodded to herself, arms crossing over her chest as she thought for a moment,

"A little ironic, don't you think?" she asked, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth as she looked back over at him, "Cause you're, you know, Captain America, and you were born on July fourth." She seemed amused by that fact. Steve squinted at her, an amused smile appearing on his face,

"Is that why you laughed that first day when I told you my birthday?" he asked, pointing at her with the flag. She shook her head, raising her hand up,

"No, no. I didn't laugh." she waved her hand around, letting out a scoff. And then she rolled her eyes, actually rolled her eyes, before continuing with "I was completely professional." she made a downward motion with her hand to make her point.

"Right…" he trailed off, letting her off the hook as he looked back to watch the parade. He always liked the small breaks in her SHIELD robot personality and they were becoming more and more frequent, which he took as a good thing.

"Maybe it was destiny." she quietly said, raising her eyebrows. Steve glanced over at her to see that she was watching the parade, but feeling his eyes on her, she turned her attention back to him.

"Maybe." he responded, getting that warm smile from her again.

There wasn't that much of the parade left, but the part he did watch reminded him of how much things had changed from his day, but how much things had stayed the same. There were still floats, fire trucks and police cars, people in costumes pretending to be people from 1776, dance troupes and boy scouts, military men marching and veterans riding in the cars, and others riding their holiday inspired decorated bikes and wagons. It just seemed like there was more of everything. This isn't to say he didn't enjoy himself; he did. He clapped along with the crowd, nodded thanks at the veterans and pointed out a few of the more fun looking bikes and wagons to Agent Proctor. It just felt a little off. Like everything else did. He was still struggling to try and find how he fit in the puzzle of the new world.

After the parade, the two of them started to walk back to her car. She stopped by one of the hot dog vendors and bought both of them a hotdog along with a water for him and soda for herself. They were quiet for a moment, both enjoying their hotdogs and drinks.

"Having a good birthday?" she asked, breaking the silence.

"Surprisingly, yes." he answered truthfully, getting her to meet his gaze with a slightly confused look.

"Surprisingly?" she repeated, raising her eyebrows ever so slightly. He clamped his mouth shut, realizing a second too late how that could be misconstrued.

"Well, yeah," he shrugged, "Just surprised you did all this today."

"Of course I would." her brow furrowed a bit, "Everyone deserves to celebrate their birthday. Hel-ck, I mean some people make a whole month of out it." He raised his eyebrows at her comment,

"Really?"

"Oh yeah." she nodded. Steve made a noise to himself, thinking about that for a moment. He knew of people who got excited about their birthday - Bucky for one, always made it a big deal, but spending a whole month celebrating seemed excessive. Then he thought of something, looking back at her,

"When's your birthday?" he asked. She raised her eyebrows at him, always so surprised that he would ask her a question in return.

"March third." she responded, "Just missed it."

"Did you have a good day?" he asked another question, knowing he probably wasn't going to get another one in. He hoped she would give him a little more than a one word answer. She paused for a moment, thinking back to the day.

"I did." she gave him that warm smile, "Spent it with friends." She didn't give him much more; at that point they had reached her car.

For as casual as she was becoming around him, she still kept a lot to herself. Which was why he still felt a little guarded about telling her about the stuff he had tried so hard to forget. Maybe one day they'd both be open with each other, but it would still take some time.

Traffic was terrible as they tried to get back to his apartment. There was a soft ballad playing throughout the car, but her incessant tapping made it a little difficult to listen to. He watched her drum her fingers against the steering wheel for a few more minutes, her jaw clenched in annoyance.

"Do you mind stopping at the deli to pick up dinner?" he asked, wanting to distract her from the traffic jam. She did a double take, almost like she had forgotten he was there.

"Oh, sure." she gave him that warm smile. Then she paused, "Why don't I drop you off at your apartment and then I'll go get the sandwiches." she offered.

"Sounds good to me." he agreed. She seemed to relax after their short conversation and the tapping stopped.

When they finally got out of the traffic, she couldn't find a parking spot in front of his apartment building, but dropped him off in front of it. He turned to his building, walking up the front steps before pulling open the door. Just as he got to the top of the stairs, Steve saw Kate coming out of her apartment. He paused for a second, feeling caught for some reason, only to shove the feeling down and continue walking. Kate noticed him, giving him a friendly smile.

"Hey there." she greeted him. He had seen her a few time since she moved in, but they never had a conversation - mostly just nods or waves hello. He gave her a smile back,

"Hi, Kate." he greeted her with a nod, noticing she had on her scrubs and was carrying a bag, "Headed to work?"

"I am." she tilted her head to the side, dirty blonde curls bouncing with the movement, "Fourth of July is one of the busiest nights at the hospital." she took in a breath, "So many weird accidents." she shook her head, but there was an amused smile on her face. He couldn't help but smile back at her, "What about you? Any fun plans to celebrate tonight?" He took in a breath, hands slipping into his pants pockets,

"Actually, it's my birthday." he admitted, tilting his head to the side and making a face. Her eyes went wide and a surprised smile broke out across her face,

"Oh my gosh! Happy birthday!" she sounded just as excited as Agent Proctor had earlier in the day.

"Thank you." he felt himself blush and ducked his head down to hide it from her.

"How old are you?" she asked. He picked his head up at her question, a little thrown by it. He couldn't very well tell her his real age. That would cause some questions. He cleared his throat, trying to come up with a number,

"Uh, twenty-nine." he answered, brow furrowing. She fell back on her foot, giving him a knowing smile.

"Only one away from the scary thirty." she tsked, but it was clear she was just teasing him. He let out a little laugh and shook his head - if only she knew. He had passed his scary thirty under a block of ice.

"Yeah, yeah…" he trailed off, not knowing what else to say.

"Well, enjoy yourself." she nodded at him, giving him a friendly smile, "But not too much. Don't wanna see you in my hospital tonight." she teased him again as she walked up to him. He raised his hands up, laughing a little,

"No promises." he responded, getting a grin from her. She walked past him and disappeared down the stairs, leaving him to walk into his apartment. Their light conversation was just another added bonus to his day - it was clear this day was shaping up to be better than he thought it would be.

Agent Proctor came back from her trip to the deli moments later, carrying more than just their dinner for the evening. In fact, it looked like she didn't even go to the deli - she was holding a box of pizza and a plastic bag filled with other things. His brow furrowed as she set the pizza down on the breakfast bar, the bag next to it.

Stepping over to the breakfast bar, he stood on the other side, peering into the bag to see that there were two boxes of sparkles, some sticks that claimed to glow in the dark and a container of brownies underneath it all.

"What is all this?" he asked, looking over at her.

"Just something to help us celebrate." she shrugged before picking up the pizza box again. She had grabbed a roll of paper towels and some waters while he had been inspecting the bag, "Come on." she motioned with her head for him to follow her, which he did.

She led him up to the roof of his building - which he had been on before, doing surveillance during one of the first nights after he moved in. Whoever had been up there before them left beach chairs for them to sit in. She asked him to get the small table that was off to the side and he placed it in between the chairs.

The sun was beginning to set as they settled onto their chairs. She pulled out the container of brownies, setting them down next to the pizza for later. Each of them grabbed a slice of pizza and he watched her fold hers, then take a bite out of the point and in the same bite take a bite of the crust. They were quiet for a moment, looking out across the city, listening to the echoes of all the celebrations that were going on.

"So, Captain, what's the final verdict?" she asked him, getting his attention, "Was this a good birthday or a bad one?"

"Definitely good." he answered before taking another bite of his pizza. A proud smile broke out across her face and she relaxed back in her chair, "Thank you, Agent." He gave her a quick smile and nod, "It was a lot more than I expected."

"Of course." she gave him that warm smile again, "I wanted to do more, but…" she trailed off waving her pizza slice in the air, "I didn't get it approved in time, yada, yada, yada." His brow furrowed and he sat up a bit, curious as to what she was talking about.

"What did you have planned?" he asked. She pulled down the corners of her mouth and shrugged noncommittally.

"Nothing big, just a little field trip." She obviously didn't want to get into it, but he didn't know if it was because she didn't want to disappoint him, or if it was because she was disappointed in herself.

"Where?" he found himself asking, wanting to know. She paused, glancing at him before quickly glancing away. She took in a deep breath and then let it out.

"Back to New York. We were going to go to Coney Island, eat at that pizza place you mentioned last week - it's still around, for the record, and then just hang out, but it's okay. It's fine." she waved her hand in the air, trying not to make it seem like it was a big deal. But it was a big deal - at least to him.

"You were going to do that for me?" he asked, once again, surprised by her kind gesture on his birthday.

"It's no big deal, Captain, seriously." she deflected, trying to get him to drop it, "We had a fun day today, let's not ruin it by what ifs." she sighed, turning her attention back to her pizza. He paused for a moment; it was clear she was disappointed that her original plan hadn't worked out, but he couldn't help but feel grateful that she had put forth such an effort to try and make his birthday an enjoyable day.

"Can you show me what else you bought?" he asked, changing the subject. She glanced back at him and hesitated for a second before giving him a nod.

As the sun continued to set, the two of them lit up their sparklers. For some reason, sparklers were the easiest way to make someone smile and there were giant grins on both of their faces. He laughed as she swirled her sparkler in the air, making patterns with the light path. It was the most he had ever seen her smile; usually she was always trying to suppress it.

"I gotta say, Captain, you look good for a guy who just turned ninety-five." she commented, ditching one of her used sparklers. His eyes flicked from where he was watching his sparkler fizzle out to her eyes, seeing the amused grin on her face. "What's your secret?" He gave her question a little laugh,

"Try being frozen in a block of ice for seventy years." he answered with raised eyebrows. She didn't quite laugh, so much as give him an amused scoff,

"Oh, yeah, I heard that's great for the skin." she joked back with him. He grinned at her, liking their little moment of witty banter. He wasn't going to question it. Sure he had joked around with Kate earlier, but this was different - Agent Proctor knew almost everything about him, whereas Kate just thought he was some random guy named Steve. It was different and a welcome change.

The rest of the pizza had gone cold and the brownie container was half gone as the two of them continued to find childlike joy in what was in the bag - first their sparklers, then the sticks that claimed to glow in the dark. She showed him how to do it, snapping the sticks so the chemicals were released into the plastic. There were regular sticks, then ones that could be molded into bracelets and necklaces.

The sky was dark as he pulled on one of the glow in the dark bracelets he had made, watching as she linked a few together in a complicated pattern - one sat atop her head, contrasting with her wavy dark hair. She grinned at him as she held up her creation and he smiled back at her, actually enjoying himself. The rare moment was suddenly cut short by a loud, shrill sound followed by an enormous boom.

He flinched at the sudden sound, eyes going wide as his mindset involuntarily shifted into soldier mode. He quickly glanced around himself, trying to find the source of the sound as it happened again. Someone was shooting at them, but from where? And where was it hitting? At the second sound, he realized there was a brightness that came after it. He looked across the city, seeing how the sky lit up. Fireworks, of course.

A breath he wasn't even aware he was holding came out as he slowly relaxed. Another firework went off and he flinched at the noise, the glow from the firework letting him see a look of concern on Agent Proctor's face.

"Everything okay, Captain?" she asked as another firework went off - this time there were multiple ones at the same time, rapid fire, not unlike the sounds of the machine guns from the war. He grimaced at the sound, trying not to let his mind go back to the dark place.

"I'm fine." he managed out, swallowing hard and rapidly blinking. There was another firework and he took in a deep breath, trying to remind himself that it was just a firework - nothing to be afraid of.

"Let's go inside." she prompted, gathering up their trash and other things. She read him like an open book, knowing that he was lying and knowing exactly what was bothering him.

"No, no, it's not a big deal." he shook his head, not wanting to ruin the night. But his efforts to try and stop her fell on deaf ears; she got to her feet with a shrug.

"They get kinda boring after the first few anyway." she assured him, trying to keep her voice casual and collected so not to worry him for his reaction to the fireworks. He was grateful for it, even if he knew she was playing her part in the game.

At her insistence, he helped her gather up their things, trying to ignore the sounds of fireworks as they went. Once they left the roof and went back inside the building, the noises were a bit muffled and more manageable. He felt himself relax with each step they took back to his apartment and the sounds retreated in tandem.

After she shut the door to his apartment, both of them were quiet for a few moments. He discarded their trash and put the leftover pizza in the fridge as she walked to the table to set down the container of brownies. He felt a bit guilty at how he reacted; he should be used to these kinds of things by now, be able to differentiate fireworks from gunshots. But all it took was one for him to feel like he was back on the battlefield, fighting off HYDRA soldiers.

"I'm sorry." he quietly said, breaking the silence. He looked over to see her turning to meet his gaze. She shook her head, stepping over to the other side of the breakfast bar so they were opposite each other.

"No, don't be. I should've known better." she seriously said. He ducked his head down, avoiding her intense eye contact. It wasn't her fault - she was just trying to do something nice for him on his birthday and he had ruined it.

"Can we talk about it?" he found himself asking her. Her eyebrows raised, surprised by his question - hell, even he was surprised by it. He didn't know why he asked what he asked, but he already felt a little better just by the mere thought of talking to her about what just happened.

"Sure." she gave him an understanding smile, "Let me get my notepad." He relaxed a bit more, following her out of the kitchen and into the living room to carry her chair over. He had spent so long not talking about anything with anyone, just pretending that he was fine, that it felt good to finally know that he had someone he could talk to about it.


	13. best pizza in dc

One of the best, most dangerous spies and assassins in the entire world, was sitting across from her. Dressed in a pair of tight skinny jeans, a white tshirt and a pair of chunky, black high-heeled boots, her red hair was cut in a blunt long bob and for the past thirty minutes, her eyes had been glued to Q's face, intently listening to whatever she said. Eye contact was usually Q's strong suit, but she couldn't hold it with her for long periods of time - shifting in her seat and breaking the eye contact every so often. The woman intimidated her. Of course she did; that was her job. Fury's office held probably over a hundred different ways she could kill Q, even just regular desk items. It scared her.

But she was trying not to let it show, focusing on her briefing packet as she talked, and acting like she didn't know it front to back (she did). During the conversation, her mind was so noisy, thinking about everything from what she needed to cover, to random things like what she should call the agent sitting across from her. Natasha seemed too casual, but Black Widow was too proper - she ended up blurting out a quick Agent Romanoff, but hadn't directly addressed her since.

The only reason Agent Romanoff was sitting across from her in Fury's office during her fortnightly meeting with Fury was because Captain Rogers had been cleared for missions. This clearance greatly affected Q's job; her role was shifting into more of a background one. Now, instead of being with him every day, from morning till night, she was only going to see him for post ops and debriefs, or whenever he didn't have a mission. And with the new clearance, she was allowed to put her heuristic plan into action, which she took as a win.

Since she couldn't very well go into the field; it wasn't part of her clearance, Agent Romanoff would be alongside him and the STRIKE team during the missions. Thus, her attendance in the meeting. She needed to be debriefed on Q's progress with him - what he knew versus what he didn't know. Things were changing and she was trying to convince herself that it was for the better.

His progress made her proud. Sure, there were still things they hadn't even touched on that were the root of his guilt and anger and depression, but based on the changes she noticed, they were working their way toward it. Having took the results from his interaction with Dawson a few weeks back, she adjusted her approach with him, finally finding the balance between professional and casual. It took her a long while to find that balance, but she knew her new approach worked; on his birthday, he asked - actually asked, to have a talk rather than her prompting it. It was a big milestone for her and him.

Another milestone came a week later, when Fury cleared him for SHIELD missions. Although he was cleared, it didn't mean that he was about to just be thrown into the next upcoming mission. Before he could actually go out on the field, Agent Romanoff and he needed to spend some time together. This came at Q's request, knowing that even though the two fought together in New York, two years had passed and she was sure that neither of them were the same as they once were. Plus, she knew how important trust was to him - if he trusted her, it would be easier when they were out on the field with the STRIKE team.

Captain Rogers wasn't aware of the changes that were happening in Fury's office quite yet; while she was meeting with Fury and Agent Romanoff, he was down in the labs with Dawson. Dawson, who grumbled about having to babysit him once again - saying something about how he needed to figure out a kink in his Top Secret SHIELD project (that he had been working on since New York) but now he would have to stop to entertain the world's oldest grandpa. Still, he agreed to hang out with him while she had her meeting. Captain Rogers would learn soon enough about his schedule changes. First, she needed to finish up her briefing with Agent Romanoff and Fury.

Once they had finished going over her report on his progress from the last meeting, the conversation turned to the new schedule she had put together. She wasn't sure how well it was going to stick; she had heard stories about Agent Romanoff acting on her own accord. But the woman seriously listened, head bobbing in agreement a few times as Q mentioned something or other. Giving someone like Agent Romanoff orders was a weird feeling for her; she was always the one taking orders, not giving them out. In fact, she had been giving out a lot of orders lately - well, not so much in the normal sense, but she had a lot more control over things than when she used to just be working in Trends and Patterns. She used to think that her new position was a demotion, but it seemed to be an odd promotion.

"So, if you don't have any questions, we'll start on Monday." she finished, looking up from her packet and making eye contact with the SHIELD agent. They kept eye contact for a few long seconds before Agent Romanoff nodded, looking down at the packet they had been going over.

"I think I can handle this." she quipped, glancing back over at her with an amused, easy smirk, "Especially with this handy-dandy outline." Q didn't know whether to take it as a joke or an insult, so she didn't react at all.

"Agent Proctor will oversee the first few days of training," Fury broke in, giving a quick overview so everyone was on the same page, "just to make sure Rogers doesn't have any issues."

"Oh, I'm sure he won't." Agent Romanoff assured them both, that amused and easy smirk still on her face. Her eyes flicked to meet Q's, who nodded once.

"Of course, sir." she answered him.

To anyone looking in, there was an apparent difference between the two women. Starting from how they carried themselves to their interactions with Fury. There was a confidence in Agent Romanoff that she didn't have - like she knew who she was and wasn't afraid to show it. Where Q was serious, she was casual and where she wasn't afraid to speak her opinions, Q held hers back. What they didn't know was that Agent Romanoff's over confidence was something that reminded Q of how she used to be, before SHIELD. She felt a pang of longing at that; a part of her wished she wasn't this way: a stuck up, serious SHIELD analyst, but a bigger part of her knew that if she was still who she was, she wouldn't be sitting where she was.

To anyone looking in, Q would look more respectful of Fury than Agent Romanoff, but they were just looking in. They wouldn't know that both women respected Fury, but just showed it differently. Both women were given a second chance by him - Agent Barton may have had a hand in helping Agent Romanoff, but the final decisions were made by Fury.

To anyone looking in, the women couldn't appear to be more different. And they were, on the surface, but dig a lot deeper and you would be able to see how similar the two women were. Neither one of them knew this though, having their respective walls up to protect themselves from getting too close, too comfortable - not letting anyone know who they truly were or what they had done for fear of being rejected and left to pick up the pieces once more.

The meeting wrapped up with handshakes and reminders of what was coming. Q left Fury's office without either of them and immediately felt herself relax. There was a lot of pressure for her during the meeting; she was used to only speaking with Fury. Throwing Agent Romanoff in the mix had made her a bit more stressed than she usually was. Thankfully, the meeting had gone well enough and no one seemed to have too many concerns.

The elevator doors slid open, letting her step out onto the lab floor. She walked with a purpose, knowing her next objective: brief Captain Rogers. Being the middle of the day, there were plenty of people in the different labrooms, working on this or that. No one paid attention to her and she hoped he didn't bring a lot of attention to himself either - most of the agents and techs were respectful, but she knew his feelings toward SHIELD.

When she got to Dawson's labroom, she found him working away on something that was resting on the table while Captain Rogers slowly spun himself around on the stool across the room. As he spun himself, she noticed he was playing with pieces of duct tape. With her brow furrowing, she pushed open the door of the labroom, getting their attention. Captain Rogers immediately stopped spinning himself and got off the stool, almost like he had been caught having unapproved fun - she had to hold back a small laugh. Dawson glanced at her before going back to tinkering at his gadget.

"You two having fun?" she asked, arms crossing over her chest as she looked in between the two of them.

"No." Dawson droned out, finishing up with whatever he was working on then stepping back to glance at Captain Rogers, "You really gotta teach him not to touch things that aren't his. Practically had to duct tape his hands to the chair." She raised her eyebrows at him before looking to Captain Rogers. He made a face and shrugged, not even defending himself.

Very quickly did she learn that he always needed to have something to play with in order to distract himself. At first she just thought it was pent up, unused energy, but after a while, she learned that he was using it as a way to distract himself from his thoughts. His fingers would start tapping or he would fiddle with the lining of his jacket pocket, almost like a nervous tick. Realizing this, she started to bring him things to use during their conversations so that that part of his mind was occupied while he talked to her, usually it was his breakfast sandwich or the pencil from his Sudoku puzzle. She hoped it would go away once he started to actually talk about what was causing all of his guilt, but it was slowly getting better. There were still moments, though, when he was in unfamiliar environments, where he needed that stimulation.

"Get him outta here before he breaks any more of my shit." Dawson waved at her, completely done with the conversation and wanting nothing more than to get back to his project.

"Okay, alright." she calmed him down, raising her hands up before gesturing to Captain Rogers, "Captain, lets leave Agent Twenty-One alone. I think you've done enough damage on him today." He gave her a quick, amused grin before stepping over to say goodbye to Dawson, the two of them doing their little handshake. It was clear Dawson wasn't actually annoyed or frustrated, but he sure did want to come off that way in an effort to maintain his cool guy persona in front of Captain Rogers. She tried to hide her amused smile by ducking her head down and turning for the door.

"For the record," he started as they stepped to the elevator, "I didn't mean to break anything." he defended himself to her.

"I know." she glanced at him with a small smile, "He just is very...particular about his things." she explained in a nice way. Dawson could be a real dick when it came to his gadgets and people touching his things. He wasn't a good sharer.

"I was just curious, I mean those things he's making - " he looked up at the ceiling of the elevator as it went down to the garage, hands stuffing into his trouser pockets, "They're incredible."

"Yes, yes, he's very smart." she waved off his compliments to Dawson, "But he could learn a thing or two from you."

"And I could learn from him." he pointed out as they stepped off the elevator.

Even though she hated to admit it, she had learned something from Dawson as well. He proved that acting casual around Captain Rogers was one way to gain positive results from him. There was something to be said about the nerd, who wanted to look cool in front of a hero, and ended up having a clear, good effect on him. Captain Rogers had obviously taken a liking to Dawson; this time he was a little more okay with the fact that he had to spend time with him while she was in her meeting. He may not have liked SHIELD as a whole, but she was glad to see he liked at least one person within the agency.

Once back at his apartment, she handed him the packet which contained his new schedule and an overview of what changes were being made and why. As he walked over to the couch, he flipped through it. She walked around to where her chair was on the opposite side of the coffee table, noticing his brow crease in slight confusion.

"Congratulations, Captain, you've been cleared to go out on the field." she kept her voice steady and professional. He glanced over at her, meeting her eyes, but there was still that look of confusion, "Starting Monday morning, you'll begin training with Agent Romanoff so that when you're called on your first mission, you'll be ready. It's all outlined in your packet." she gestured to what he was holding in his hands. She took her seat on the chair, tucking her skirt underneath her as he settled himself on the couch. He leaned forward so his elbows rested against his thighs and he could flip through the packet.

"Agent Romanoff?" he asked out, his look of confusion also coloring his voice. She noted how he used her title versus her first name, "Wait, what does this mean, Agent?" he glanced over at her before looking back at the packet. She tilted her head at him, unsure of what he meant. He glanced up and noticed her look. He sat back against the couch and took in a breath, "I mean, will I still have to talk with you?" he rephrased his question, explaining it a bit more.

"Of course." she nodded at him, ankles crossing, "I just won't be with you all the time. You'll have a little more freedom in your day to day." she gave him a small smile, seeing how he reacted to the word. His eyebrows went up and his mouth opened slightly.

"Oh, okay." he looked down as he nodded, but his brow furrowed. She wasn't sure how he could be confused. This was a good thing. He was able to be by himself, SHIELD trusted him enough to let his leash loosen - not take it off completely, but they were getting there. Once he proved to be a valuable asset on the field (even though most knew he already was; come on, he was Captain America), more freedom would come.

"Come on, Captain, don't sound so excited." she teased him, shifting her weight on her chair, "I'll still be here, trying to pull out all your deep dark secrets." He gave a slight laugh and shook his head at that. She grinned at him before continuing, "That being said, if there's anything you want to do before Monday, let me know so we can do it. You probably won't have much time for adventures once you begin going on ops." He glanced back at her for a moment before looking to the side as he thought about what she said.

"The pizza tour." he answered her. Her eyebrows rose in surprise; she certainly wasn't expecting that. She didn't even know that he remembered something she had mentioned almost two weeks prior, "You said you were planning one." he reminded her, seeing the surprised reaction on her face.

"No, yeah, sure." she quickly bobbed her head, "We can do that." she gave him a warm smile, "Tomorrow, after your run." He gave her a quick smile of his own and nodded. A moment passed where he looked back at the packet and then back to her,

"You said I'll be training with Agent Romanoff?" he asked. She nodded, settling herself back against the chair,

"You haven't seen her since New York, right?" she asked back, prompting him to talk about his relationship with her and his feelings toward her.

Of course they had talked about the battle in New York - it was the first thing he opened up about, but they had never discussed his individual interactions with each of the Avengers. This was the first time she learned about his relationship with Agent Romanoff.

The way he talked about her made it clear that he wasn't a fan, not that he didn't respect her - he just didn't seem to like or trust her. He seemed a little hesitant about working with her. In New York, they had very little interactions, having only been together during the fights. With that in mind, he had his reservations about her; while their time spent together in New York showed him that she played well with others, he theorized that what happened in her past suggested she only cared about herself. She had a wall up, projecting a personality that was meant to be reassuring, but also show that she was confident in her skill set. So of course, he was a little put off by having to work one on one with her both on and off the field.

After hearing his opinions and concerns about Agent Romanoff, Q tried not to take it personally and relate it to her relationship with him; what he described was eerily similar to how she felt their relationship was working. Instead, she tried to work with him to figure out ways he could interact with Agent Romanoff. Set up a game plan. She tried to assure him that he was in good hands; Fury assigned Agent Romanoff to him, which wouldn't have happened unless there was a specific reason for it (one she didn't know, but didn't tell him that). Even with their talk, it was clear that Captain Rogers was still going to be playing defense with Agent Romanoff until she proved he could trust her. It was a defense mechanism built from his time as Captain America. And unfortunately, there was nothing she could do to stop it; even she was still trying to figure out a way around it.

Moving on from Agent Romanoff, the two of them went through his new schedule. She discussed his training regimen and how it would go hand in hand with what he already had in place. They went over what was expected of him in the upcoming missions, what was going to change and what was going to stay the same. When he had questions, she tried to answer them as truthfully as possible, even though she didn't know much considering her role wasn't an Operations role. Some of the questions he would need to ask Fury or Agent Romanoff and even then, she wasn't sure he would get the true answers. SHIELD had a nice way of compartmentalizing things.

When the day was over, she went back to her apartment, mind quickly moving on from the their talks as she tried to come up with a plan for the next day. She hadn't even thought about the pizza tour since she casually mentioned it to him. They had been too busy learning and experiencing other things he was unfamiliar with. But since he brought it up, she realized that she should've been planning it the whole time - just in case.

So, as soon as she was back in her apartment, she grabbed her laptop and went to work. Since she had been living in DC since she was nineteen, she had a general idea of which pizza places were the best. It was just a matter of creating the right order. Did she want to start with the worst (of the best) and then build up to the best? Or was it about the distance between them? She figured since she had her favorites, she would go with distance, letting Captain Rogers come up with his own opinions.

The order of which pizza shops they went to wasn't her only problem. She had to come up with a rubric for the pizzas they tried. This wasn't going to be a one off - she was set to make this a whole event. It was in her natural to plan and over plan; she didn't like not knowing what was coming next. There always needed to be a plan.

The map and rubrics she created were then printed out, bound together by a colorful clasp. There was even a cover page she created with a graphic and the title of the event: PIZZA TOUR 2K14 in bright, bold type across the front. She included a pen with each of the rubrics, clasping it on the edge of the cover.

In total, there were nine different pizza shops the two of them would go to - starting with the furthest one from his apartment and ending with the one she frequented at times. She made sure to skip the two they had already gone to or ordered pizza from, wanting it to be fresh and for him not to have any prior bias.

After she finished putting together everything she needed for the pizza tour, she organized herself for the morning, making sure everything was in her bag. Knowing she would be too distracted to sleep, she grabbed her phone from the table, going into her recent calls and calling her favorite distraction. He picked up on the second ring, almost like he had been waiting for her call.

"You have twenty minutes to get over here." she seriously said, knowing he knew that it was a one shot chance. Even if he was just a minute late, she wouldn't let him in. Then both of them would be disappointed.

"I'll be there." Rumlow responded before she hung up the phone. Tossing her phone onto her bed, she made quick work of undressing herself, wanting there to be as little clothing between him and her as possible.

Twenty-one minutes later, his lips were on hers, pressing frantic kisses against her lips, hands already on her hips, thumbs rubbing the edge of her underwear as she walked him back to her bedroom. Her hands moved to undress him, pulling his shirt over his head and breaking them apart for a moment. He kept his eyes on her - they were blown wide with lust and she smirked at how he looked at her hungrily. It had only been a few days since their last time, but he looked at her like it had been months. She tossed his shirt away so it landed on one of the barstools in the kitchen, continuing to walk to her bedroom as her hands went to his jeans.

"Heard Cap's gonna start workin' with us." he whispered out, voice low and gravelly. She shushed him with a quick kiss before pulling back to give him a look. She didn't need to hear Captain Rogers' name in the middle of this; it just felt...wrong.

"What's our rule?" she asked, voice soft but serious. He licked his lips and went to kiss her again, only to have her pull back from it, not letting him press his lips against hers until he answered her.

"No work talk." he responded, voice quiet. She gave him a serious nod before pressing a kiss to his lips.

"Good boy." she praised him as his hands moved around to squeeze her ass. Her praise turned into a small moan and she shoved his pants and boxers down, letting him kick them off as he followed her into the bedroom.

By the time they were finished, a thin layer of sweat covered her whole body. She felt sticky and gross and shoved his arm off of her so she could get up to kneel in front of her box fan. The July heat was kicking in and didn't let up, even when the sun was gone. She closed her eyes, relishing in the feeling of the air blowing directly on her face. A moment later, she heard him get out of her bed and then felt him step behind her, lifting her hair up and moving it so her neck was exposed.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the side of her neck, getting her to lean back against him. In reaction, a small sigh escaped when his lips left her skin and when she opened her eyes, she saw him looking down at her with a slight smirk. She gave him a tired smile as he moved his hands to cup the sides of her face, tilting it up a bit more so that he could kiss her. After a moment, she pulled back, dropping her head down and feeling his hands go to run through her hair.

Getting to her feet, she turned around to face him. He was still just as naked as she was and his arms went to wrap around her waist, pulling her close to him. Her hands settled on his shoulders and she tilted her head at him,

"You seem to be missing some clothes." A half smirk graced his features and he let out a soft hum,

"Seems that way, yes." he agreed.

"Then we better go find them." she raised her eyebrows up, eyes going wide as she stepped back from him. They had finished, so she was finished with him. It had lasted late, way later than it should've, and she needed to get some sleep. Luckily, she had been tired out in the best way possible, so once she cooled down a bit more, it would be easy for her to fall asleep.

Rumlow walked through her apartment, redressing himself as he went. She watched from her position against the bedroom door frame. For some reason, she liked watching him put his clothes on just as much as she liked taking them off. When he was fully redressed, he stepped back over to her, admiring her body for a moment before meeting her eyes. She raised her eyebrows, not saying anything else; he knew what to do. He let out a slight scoff and shook his head, hands fisting into his jeans pockets,

"I'll see ya around, Q." he smirked at her, throwing her a wink before turning away from her. She waited until she heard the front door click shut before going back into her bedroom and heading for the shower; the quickest way to cool off was with a nice cold shower.

Even with how late Rumlow stayed, her body was so used to waking up early that it didn't matter. The next morning, she had plenty of time to get herself ready for the day. She debated wearing something casual, but stuck with her skirt and blouse combo - only ditching the blazer because good God, it was too humid out for that. She tied her hair up in a bun off her neck so that the humidity wouldn't turn her wavy hair into an poofball and then made sure she had everything for the pizza tour.

Over the past two weeks, she had started to let Captain Rogers go on his run alone a few times a week- not seeing why she needed to be there. The FitBit tracked everything for her, so she had been using the free time in the morning to go over the results from the day previous. Her graphs were steadily improving and she couldn't help but feel proud of the outcomes. What she had been doing was working, even when she adjusted her approach slightly to accommodate his ever growing comfortableness around her. His serious manner that he had when they first met had dissipated - it lingered and came out in moments, but overall he was becoming more relaxed around her. He didn't trust her yet, but it was only a matter of time until she figured out a way that would prove that he could.

At his apartment building, before going to his apartment, she ran into Sharon on the stairs. She had a laundry basket resting against her hip and gave Q a friendly smile. Since she moved in next door, the two women hadn't really run into each other in the building. If they needed to meet, it was done at night, over Skype. It was for the best and semi-planned that way so that neither would run the risk of blowing Sharon's cover.

"Hi, Q." she greeted her.

"Hey, Kate." Q responded, using Sharon's cover name in case Captain Rogers was in hearing distance. She knew he had enhanced abilities - thanks to the serum, but she didn't know to what degree.

"Are you and Steve hanging out today?" she asked, keeping up her cover. Nodding in response, she went into her bag, pulling out one of the packets she put together.

"Going on a pizza tour through DC." she explained, getting a surprised eyebrow raise from Sharon. She didn't take the packet but glanced over the cover, seeing how many pages there were.

"Seems like serious stuff."

"Of course it is." Q grinned at her, knowing Sharon was only teasing, "It's pizza, Kate. Pizza is very serious business." Sharon laughed at that, obviously amused by the day's plans. Even though she knew about everything that Q did with Captain Rogers the day prior, it was still a matter of keeping up appearances - just in case.

"Alright, well, I'll let you get to it." she patted her laundry basket and nodded at Q. Stepping to the side, she let Sharon pass her on the steps, "Have a good day, Q."

"You too."

Continuing up the stairs, she turned to walk over to Captain Rogers' apartment. He opened the door a few moments after she knocked, already dressed for the day. He still continued to dress like a grandpa - wearing slacks and a plaid button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. With the weather getting warmer, she hoped she could start to convince him to start wearing some of the t-shirts that were in his closet and maybe a pair of jeans or two.

"Are you ready for to determine where the best pizza in DC is?" she asked after they exchanged morning pleasantries. A quick grin appeared as he reacted to her excitement and then he nodded.

She stepped over to him and presented him with the packet she had shown Sharon a few minutes earlier. His eyebrows rose as he took the packet from her, realizing that she had done a lot of planning. He flipped through it, noticing the different rubrics.

"There are score cards?" he asked, surprise coloring his tone.

"Of course there are, Captain. How else are we supposed to judge the pizza?" she asked back with a slight scoff.

"Figured just by taste." he responded, pulling down the corners of his mouth and shrugging. She let out a small laugh and shook her head,

"Oh, no, there are many other factors, Captain." she stepped over to him, pointing out some of the categories from the list, "There's taste, yes, but we gotta judge the sauce, the cheese, the crust, the dough, the sauce to cheese ratio, the shop itself, the price…" she trailed off, noticing his amused grin,

"You put a lot of effort into this, huh, Agent?"

"Uh, yes." she made her eyes wide, pulling back from him and ignoring his teasing, "If we didn't write it down, we'd just be fuc-messing around." He nodded at her,

"Right." he agreed before glancing back down at the packet, "Alright, then I guess we better get started." She gave him an easy grin and nodded, just as eager to start the tour.

If there was one thing she was really good at it, it was eating. Her mother used to call her their human garbage disposal (meant as an insult). She didn't know why she could eat so much - it was probably due to her irregular eating habits. Sometimes she would go days without eating anything and surviving off of a large soda from Albert's, while other times she would eat and eat and eat. Luckily, it was one of the days she could eat and eat. And maybe a part of her was competitive and wanted to prove that she could keep up with the super soldier.

At each pizza shop, they would order a large plain pizza - she didn't want toppings to get in the way of their research, then split it alongside a soda for her and a water for him. Thanks to the serum, he could put away his half while she put away her half. Their conversation mostly revolved around filling out the rubrics. Sometimes they agreed, sometimes they disagreed, but they never tried to change the other's mind.

Thankfully, it seemed like Captain Rogers was having a good time. Even though they weren't having their usual sit down talk, she was still learning about him and seeing the progress. He didn't seem as on edge as he once did, but she still caught him sweeping the pizza shops as soon as they walked in. At some points throughout the day, he talked to her like she was a friend rather than a SHIELD agent, almost as if he forgot that she was a part of SHIELD. It was a nice feeling.

"So, how are you liking all the pizzas?" she asked, sitting back in the booth of last shop of the pizza tour. He nodded, looking over the pizza slice he held in his hand.

"Some good, some bad." he answered, "As you'll see in my scorecards." he gave her a pointed look. She twisted her mouth to the side, trying not to smile at his slight teasing. He finished up his slice of pizza, glancing around the pizza shop and taking in the patrons. She watched him for a moment, noticing how his features shifted at the sight of the different customers and different pizzas around.

"Say what's in your head." she prompted him, not wanting him to get lost in his thoughts and start to spiral. He met her eyes and gave her a small smile,

"It's nothing, Agent." he sighed, shaking his head, "I was just thinking about how back in my day, pizza wasn't this popular. I mean, people enjoyed it but...it was more for the...hard working class than everyone." he explained, getting her to eye him. She understood what he was saying, but she didn't really want to put a damper on the day with talks of the past.

"You know, Captain, you really need to stop saying that." she commented. He raised his eyebrows, not sure what she meant, "Back in my day." she mimicked him, adopting a deeper voice to pretend she was him. His eyes went wide at the impersonation and a surprised smile broke out across his face. She grinned at him before shrugging. Then an idea popped into her head, "You know what we need? A jar." she pointed at him and his brow furrowed as he tilted his head to the side,

"A jar?" he asked back, prompting her to explain her idea.

"Yeah, a jar, you know, so every time you say back in my day or allude to some point in your past, you have to put a dollar in it." she explained. He laughed at her, falling back against the booth, head rolling back for a moment. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked back at her, an amused smile on his face,

"And when the jar's full, where would the money go?" he asked with a slight raise of his eyebrows. She shrugged again, twisting her mouth to the side; she hadn't thought of that. Her eyes trailed around the few slices of pizza that were left and she grinned to herself,

"Pizza." she simply answered, getting another short laugh from him, "We can figure that out later. It's not about the money, it's about breaking a bad habit." He raised his eyebrows, taking in a breath,

"So you're saying talking about my past is a bad habit?" he asked, leaning forward, "Cause then why do you try to get me to talk about it so often, Agent?" he raised his eyebrows at her. She rolled her eyes, knowing how he was trying to get at and what he wanted her to admit,

"That's not what I'm saying, Captain. There's a difference between talking about the past and living there. Relating everything back to it. It's not healthy." she explained. He eyed her for a moment before nodding,

"Okay." he gave in, "But then you should have a jar too, Agent." She made a face at that, tilting her head to the side.

"Why? What do I need a jar for?" she asked, face scrunching up, eyes squinting at him. She tried to stay casual, but she thought back to everything she had ever done in front of him. Was there anything she did that she wasn't aware of? She began to internally panic, but before she could put her finger on what he meant, he filled in the blank,

"For when you curse." he simply responded with a casual shrug. She pulled back away from the table, completely thrown off by his answer.

"What?" she laughed out before shaking her head, "I - I don't - I don't curse." she tried to defend herself and he laughed at how frazzled she was by his answer.

"You do. You think I don't catch it cause you try to stop yourself, but you do." he pointed at her before shifting forward in his seat, "Like when you said dam-angit or hel-ck." she groaned, placing her hands over her face to hide the embarrassed blush that was turning her face red. He tsked at her, "Bad habit." she peered at him through her fingers, seeing that he had an amused smile on his face.

Sure, she cursed, but she always tried to keep it PG-rated when she was around Captain Rogers; there was just something about him that made her feel like she shouldn't curse. Maybe it was because of the time he was from or maybe it was something about respect, but she was human and she had slip ups - ones that he apparently caught.

"Okay, fine! Fine." she lifted her hands from her face, putting them out in front of her, "I'll have a swear jar and you'll have your past jar." she gave in, reaching for another slice of pizza.

When all of the pizzas had been eaten and the rubrics filled out, the two of them returned to his apartment. The rest of the evening was spent at the dining room table, spreading their rubrics out and going over all of the scores before deciding which pizza shop had gained the title of Best Pizza in D.C.

"Is it bad that I'm already hungry again?" she asked, sitting back in her chair once they awarded the winner the title. He gave her a surprised look,

"Really?" he asked back. She nodded, hands going to rest on her stomach. A small laugh escaped from him and she gave him a confused look.

"What's so funny?"

"You being hungry again. You just ate nine pizzas." he answered with a gesture to her. She held up her finger to correct him,

"Technically, I ate half of those nine pizzas." He raised his hands up in defense, ducking his head down and agreeing with her. There was a moment of silence as she looked around his apartment, noticing there were still a good amount of boxes he needed to go through. They would get there, she was sure of it.

"Okay, I'm going to get going." she sighed out, pushing up in her chair, "Think about what you want to do tomorrow and let me know." He nodded at her, going to get up at the same time she did.  
Before she moved away from the table, she shuffled all the papers together, making a stack of them and went to put them into her bag, figuring he didn't want to keep them. But he stopped her, asking if he could keep his for future reference. She agreed and separated his from hers.

"Have a good night, Captain." she bid him goodbye once she was at the door. He nodded at her, hands slipping into the pockets of his slacks,

"Good night, Q." he responded with a quick smile. She hesitated for a split second, immediately noting that he had called her by her nickname, but she composed herself and exited the apartment.

As soon as she stepped outside of the building, the warm summer night air was a sharp contrast to the cool air running through the building and hit her like a ton of bricks. She took in a deep breath, finally being able to properly react to how he addressed her. Q.

She offered her nickname to him weeks ago - when Sharon moved into the building, as a way to make him more comfortable. He declined and time went on. But suddenly, for some reason, he decided now was the time. It wasn't a bad thing. She wondered if he even noticed or if it just came out. And what did it mean to him? And for their relationship? She had so many questions, but one thing was clear:

Captain Rogers sort of, kind of, maybe considered them friends.


	14. liver loaf

Right. Left. Block.

Left. Right. Block.

It had been a week and a half since he had been cleared for SHIELD operations. In that time, he started to train with Natasha, not yet going on an actual operation. They had done everything from tactical training to weights to sparring with each other. He had to admit he was liking it; running thirteen miles a day could only do so much. It felt good to work his other muscles, something he hadn't done since the attack on New York.

Having muscles and a super human strength used to feel unnatural to Steve. He never had any semblance of muscles before the serum, instead having the body similar to uncooked pasta. When he stepped out of the chamber after the serum had been injected, he felt totally unbalanced. He was taller, yes, but there was an extra amount of body mass on him that he had never had before. It was different and very strange.

There was no easing him into what his new body could do; he immediately sprung into action after the Hydra spy killed Erskine then tried to escape. When he went after the Hydra spy, he felt like a baby deer just learning to walk. He couldn't control himself - tripping over himself, overcompensating to keep his balance, not being able to slow himself down and smashing into windows.

But even if that was just the new speed he had acquired, the strength worked similarly. He was able to hold onto the top of a speeding taxi, break into a submerged submarine, and toss a rather strong man out of the water like he was light as a feather. It was clear that he could use his newfound strength to do a lot more than just lift up women who were sitting on top of a motorcycle during the USO shows.

And he did, during the war. He learned a lot more on how to control his strength and speed and use it to his advantage. There were a lot of trials and errors, play wrestling with Bucky and the rest of the Howling Commandos, doing dares during downtime to prove how strong he really was, so he slowly got used to it. When the time came to show off his new strength, it was like he had had it all along. Fighting came naturally to him, having been in so many fights growing up - granted, he lost more than he won, but he knew the right moves. Now, he was able to use it to win instead of being beaten to a pulp. He wasn't weak anymore, being able to do simple tasks like lifting a bag of potatoes without getting winded. And it took him awhile to realize that the other shoe wasn't going to drop - that the muscles weren't going to disappear and he was going to be the skinny boy he used to be. This was who he was now, a man with the strength of a hundred.

As time went on, he actually started to become stronger. After being defrosted, he had spent a lot of time at the local boxing gym, punching out all of his frustrations. He told himself it was a way to get through what had happened to him, but he didn't realized that it was increasing his strengths. Like any normal workout would do - it helped him improve. Kind of ironic.

The nights at the boxing gym had become few and far between after New York, which was when he started to run - from his problems or as a way to stay in shape depended on the person you asked. And it had been a while since he did anything more than running. He didn't realize that strength training was an option in DC - he never asked either so it was sort of his fault.

His rounds with Natasha felt familiar and he was glad that he was getting back into it. Sure, he wasn't using all of his strength during their sessions; he didn't want to hurt her, but it felt good to have someone to spar with instead of just hitting a punching bag over and over.

Over the past week and a half, his workout with Natasha had been officially added to his routine. He would go on his run, then go to the Triskelion where he would go to their Training floor and meet with Natasha. Building on what they already went over, she would have a different exercise for them each day.

"Hey, suit!" Natasha called out during one of their breaks. Steve took a swig from his water bottle and glanced across the room to where Q was sitting in one of the folding chairs against the wall.

During the past week and a half, she had been coming with him to his training sessions. Even though she had told him that she wasn't going to be around all the time, Steve felt a little better with her there - more comfortable. Usually, she left him alone after the training sessions, staying at the Triskelion while he went home - unless there was something he needed her for or she had a certain activity for them to do. She had been slowly pulling herself away from him and leaving him to his own devices. Instead of spending almost seventeen hours a day together, they now spent about six to eight. For him, it was a drastic change, but not necessarily a bad one.

Looking up from her crossword book - she had moved on from Sudoku the week prior, she responded to Natasha's nickname for her. She didn't say anything, expectantly waiting for Natasha to continue.

"Wanna go a few rounds?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow and smirking at her. He kept his eyes on Q, watching her reaction to Natasha's question. Her face paled a bit and she quickly shook her head, causing a few hairs to escape from her bun.

"No, no, I'm ok." she forced that warm smile that she had used so many times on him.

"C'mon." Natasha goaded her, "I'll go easy on you, I promise." That amused smirk stayed on her face as she kept her eyes on Q's face. He knew that no matter how hard Natasha tried, she wasn't going to be able to convince Q to join in. It wasn't because she wasn't good at convincing people to do things, but because he knew Q's aversion to any and all physical activity. She may have been as tall as him, yet had the same muscle definition he did before the serum. And she seemed perfectly alright with it.

"I'm fine." she answered, giving a small, forced laugh to cover up how uncomfortable she was, "Really." She put her hand up and shook her head again, clearly wanting Natasha to give up. Natasha hesitated for a moment before nodding and pushing back against the ropes of the boxing ring they were in.

As she turned back to him, he saw that Q continued to eye her. Having spent seventeen hours a day, seven days a week together, he knew that she was analyzing Natasha. Finding her insecurities and weak points - not to expose them, but to know them and adjust how she interacted with her. Just like she did with him.

He didn't know how he started to call her Q - it just slipped out one night and it felt so natural. But he knew what it meant; she had explained to him very clearly that only her friends called her by her nickname. They had obviously become used to each other, but it felt different than just being used to someone being around Were they friends? He wasn't really sure, but he thought so. They never said it out loud, but he had his reasons as why both of them thought they were. One was that she didn't very well stop him from calling her by that name. But he wasn't sure if that was out of politeness or because she thought they were friends too.

Along with the name change, there were a few moments where he could feel like they were on the definite path to friendship: from the movies they watched or the outings they went on to cross things off his list. After spending so much time together, becoming friends was the next logical step forward. So maybe they were friends.

Either way, the name made it clear that there was a real shift in their relationship. No longer were they stiff and professional around each other - well, she was still semi-professional around him, but that seemed to be a personal choice. He, on the other hand, felt more like himself when he was with her. There were certain moments that reminded him of someone: when she gave him an unamused look, or the way she commented on something, or even when she made a certain hand motion. His brain never caught up in time to piece it together, but it was in those moments that he felt the most comfortable around her - like maybe he could trust her (he still didn't though).

"Are you sure she's okay?" Natasha asked as they switched off, "I mean she comes in here with you every day, but all she does is just sit there." she kept her voice low, glancing over to where Q was still sitting with her crossword.

"She's fine." he curtly answered, lifting his chin slightly at her as he pulled on the punch pad gloves. She eyed him for a moment before nodding and setting her stance.

There wasn't much talking between the two of them. Not only did he do enough talking with Q, but he just didn't want to talk to Natasha. They were teammates again, but they weren't necessarily friends. He trusted her to have his twenty during ops and that was about it.

By the time he was finished working out with Natasha it was well into the day. He helped her put everything they had used back in the proper places before she bid them goodbye, throwing a wink to Q on her way out. He couldn't help but laugh a little at her startled reaction by it. Still, she shook it off rather quickly, trying to appear unbothered by it as he stepped up to her.

"Cap," she greeted him with the new nickname she had started using a few days ago. Another reason why he thought she also agreed that they had took that new step in their relationship. Nicknames were things that friends called each other, so it made sense, "How was it?"

"Good." he answered her with a quick smile, knowing she had semi-watched what they had done. She was just being polite. "How's the crossword puzzle?" he asked back, getting her to sigh and flip open to the puzzle she was working on.

"I'm almost there." she started, showing him her page. Most of the boxes were filled in with her all caps handwriting. When she first started doing them, he noticed that she was using pen, which she explained was just how she learned how to do them so that she could see her mistakes and learn from them. She tried to play it off as a casual thing she did, but Steve could tell that it was something deeper.

"I can't get fifteen down though." she twisted her mouth to the side as she pointed to the boxes. He glanced at the clue and felt the corner of his mouth tug up in a smile. His gaze shifted back to her to see her watching him with raised eyebrows

"It's James Bond." he answered her, feeling sort of proud of himself for knowing the answer.

Crossword puzzles were usually made up of pop culture references that he didn't know, but slowly, with Q's help he was learning more and more. And he proved that to her by figuring out the clue. She gave him a proud smile and then looked down at the crossword puzzle. He had a feeling that she knew the answer, but was just testing him - though she didn't confirm or deny it.

"Thank you, Cap." she grinned at him after filling in the answer and shutting the book so she could put it in her messenger bag. He nodded at her, the proud little grin still on his face.

On this particular day, Q stayed with him after his training session. She had driven him to the Triskelion (usually he rode his motorcycle) because he needed to do some grocery shopping. For the past almost two months, he had relied on Q for a lot of his meals. They consisted of going out or ordering pizza - even though his fridge had been fully stocked. Now that he was going to be on his own for most of the time, he wanted to start cooking for himself again. This required have to go to the grocery store since everything was spoiled or had been thrown out over the weeks.

Luckily, grocery stores hadn't changed that much. Sure, they were bigger, brighter, had a lot more food than back in his day, but the basic concept was still the same. He could handle himself, Q was just along for the ride (and also to pay, which he insisted she didn't need to, but she ignored him)

Pushing the cart through the produce section, his eyes scanned what was available. So many of the fruits weren't as common back then as they were in the present day. Plus, there were way more options than before: less things were canned and more were fresh fruits. He picked the fruits he knew: pears, apples, oranges, dates. At his selections, he noticed her giving him a semi-disgusted look.

"What?" he asked, a little panicked by how she was reacting. Was he not supposed to eat these things anymore?

"Dates? Really?" she asked back, eyebrows raising, arms crossed over her suit, "You truly are ninety-five." He gave her an unamused look. Another reason why he was beginning to think that she also considered them to be friends was because she was beginning to express her opinions a lot more than she used to. Not during their talks, but when they were doing other things. She made comments about his reactions to things or the movies and shows they watched.

"Alright, fine. What fruits should I get then?" She shrugged, disgusted expression turning into a bored one.

"I don't know. I don't eat fruits."

"Of course." he sighed out, shaking his head slightly, "You know, Q, back in my day, some fresh fruits were considered treats." He held up one of the oranges, remembering how his mother used to put one in his stockings at Christmas.

"Jar." she pointed at him before moving over to the pineapples, "Here, this is perfect for the season." She picked one up and put it in his cart before he could say anything else.

The two of them continued through the grocery store where he picked out his breads and deli meats and cheeses - keeping his thoughts about how grocery shopping was back in his day to himself; he had a feeling if he talked about it, he would owe a lot of money to the jar.

He had been grocery shopping before, after being defrosted and after the battle in New York, but still, he couldn't believe some of the things he put in his cart. A lot of things were cheaper, the size of the items were massive compared to the things that he bought when everything was rationed and there were things he never even tried before that he decided to. There were different spices and oils and instant meals, he always had to stop himself from putting everything in his cart.

Maneuvering the cart down the cereal aisle, he spotted the cereal that Q always ordered at the diner. He had yet to try it, but was curious about it so he grabbed a box of it and put it in the cart, ignoring her raised eyebrow expression. He grabbed another, different box of cereal, just in case he didn't like the other one.

As they went through the store, he noticed that she was picking up a few things here and there: a box of something that claimed to be fruit snacks (which confused him because she said minutes earlier that she didn't eat fruit), a box of frozen waffles, a bag of chips...nothing that seemed healthy in the slightest.

"Are you sure you don't want a cart?" he asked her as she balanced a six pack of soda cans on her small pile. He only ever saw her drink soda and frankly, it worried him. He also knew that the items were probably too heavy for her and it was only a matter of time before she dropped everything.

"Nah, I got it." she pulled the corners of her mouth down and shook her head. He couldn't help but laugh a little at her answer. And then a familiar feeling pinged in the corner of his brain, like he had been in this exact situation before - deja vu. He paused, brow furrowing as he tried to pull the memory out only to be hit with a small wave of sad nostalgia. Bucky.

When his mother got sick, he tried to do a lot to help her out, including grocery shopping. He and Bucky would go to the store every week and pick up the items on her list. This was back when he was still skinny and weak so he wasn't able to hold a lot of the items, or even the basket itself. Bucky would try to hold most of them for him, denying the offer of the basket by saying the same thing Q had just said to him and then just shrug him off.

Blinking out of the memory, he brought himself back to the present, just in time to see the six pack of soda slipping off of the top of the pile as she looked at one of the snack boxes. Quickly reaching out, he caught it in his hand, alerting her to what was about to happen.

"Oh shit." she reacted, trying to reorganize everything in her arms so that nothing else would fall.

"Jar." he smirked at her as he put her soda cans in the cart. She rolled her eyes at him as he continued, "Why don't you put the rest of the stuff in the cart so that doesn't happen again?" She heaved a sigh and then gave in, dramatically dropping her pile of food into the cart so it landed with a bang.

Once they finished their shopping and made it back to his apartment, they made sure each put a dollar in their respective, quickly filling, jars before doing anything else. Then, she helped him unpack his groceries and start putting them away. He separated her items from his, placing the things that could spoil in the freezer or fridge.

"Do you know how to cook?" she curiously asked as she shut the cabinet door. He made eye contact with her as he put a bag of frozen veggies into the freezer.

"I do." he answered with a quick nod, "Used to cook a lot when my mother was sick." She raised her eyebrows at him, nodding thoughtfully at his answer.

"What did you make?" she continued with her line of questions. He was a little surprised she hadn't jumped at the chance to have him talk about his mother, but he was also grateful for it; it still hurt to remember all those he had lost.

"Uh, liver loaf." he replied. It wasn't that it was his favorite thing to make, but it was the easiest. It came in a can - just like most of his food back then and was cheap enough to buy. He almost always paired it with something like buttered spinach or peas.

A look of disgust flashed over her face at his answer, causing him to do a double take, "What?" he asked, stepping back and closing the freezer door.

"Liver loaf?" she repeated, sounding grossed out, "Cap…" she trailed off, voice full of pity.

"I didn't say it was good." he responded, raising his eyebrows up, "Good food wasn't as easily accessible for some of those living in the 30's as it is now. There were a lot of loaves, boiled things, so many canned items...we used a lot of butter and white sauce…" he looked down at some of his groceries he had yet to put away, thinking back to all the meals he had eaten before the war. He couldn't eat a lot of the food that was available - mostly because they couldn't afford it, but also because he had a lot of dietary restrictions.

Before the serum, there were a lot of things wrong with him: his asthma, his scoliosis, his leg, his heart problems, being color blind...but he also had a lot of problems with his food sensitivity. He couldn't eat certain foods because they gave him terrible indigestion and heartburn. Paired with the juvenile on-set diabetes he had, caused him to always watch his sugar intake and be injected with insulin. As if that wasn't enough, because of his low-quality diet and lack of iron and vitamins, he developed anemia - which didn't help with the fatigueness he already felt because of all the other illnesses he had. Sometimes he wondered how he survived as long as he did.

Just as it did with all of his other disabilities, the serum fixed his stomach issues. He could eat whatever he wanted without feeling like he was going to throw up immediately after. And just as he done with his newfound strength, he tested himself - seeing what foods he could eat and which he couldn't. There wasn't a very long list of things he couldn't eat, but he found that he didn't like some foods that he was certain he was going to.

"Do you cook, Q?" he asked her as she crumpled up the empty plastic bags. She let out an amused scoff and shook her head,

"No, and trust me, you don't want me to. I burn steam." she answered, being dramatic for emphasis. He couldn't help but quickly grin at her answer as she shoved the plastic bags into the trash. She kept one out so she could put the items she bought in, opening the box of fruit snacks and pulling out two packs.

Steve caught the one she tossed him, turning it over in his hand to see the brightly colored front. Her foods always had brightly colored containers and he wasn't sure if that was a personal choice or just a way of showing that she didn't eat like an adult should.

"Humor me." she said with a half smile after noticing him studying the packaging. He glanced over at her, raising his eyebrows before opening the packet.

The gummies inside were not fruit shaped, or even resembled fruit at all. They looked like candy. How could they possibly be considered fruit snacks like the box proclaimed? Still, he dumped them out into his palm, see that some were almost neon colored, while others looked darker. The bright blue one stood out to him, so he plucked it from the pile in his palm and popped it into his mouth without hesitation.

It was much chewier than he would've thought, also it felt...sticky. Like it was stuck to the bottoms of his teeth. He couldn't even place the taste; it was pure sugar. There was no fruit about it. A disgusted frown appeared on his face as a reaction to the utter sweetness and stickiness of the gummy. His tongue tried to scrape off the remainder of the gummy from his teeth, wanting to get rid of it.

"Not a fan, huh, Cap." He glanced over to where Q was leaning against the counter, chewing on a gummy of her own. He shook his head and carefully dumped the rest of the gummies back into the small package.

"No, not at all." he cleared his throat and handed the package back to her. She let out a small amused scoff at his action, but folded the package over and stuffed it back into the box.

"More for me." she shrugged, unbothered by his opinion regarding the "fruit" snacks. She moved on, "So, what are you going to cook tonight? Please don't say liver loaf." she grimaced, getting a low chuckle out of him.

"No, no…" he stuck his hands into his pockets of his slacks and took in a breath, "I don't know." he answered, raising his eyebrows at her. He hadn't really thought about it - just buying foods that looked good or would go good together.

She pursed her lips and matched his raised eyebrow expression, pushing off the counter and walking past him into the dining room area. His eyes followed her to the table where his laptop was. She picked it up and stepped over to the breakfast bar, he moved to the opposite side as she opened up the laptop and her fingers tapped over the keys. Once she stopped, she turned the laptop around and showed him what she was doing.

On the screen was something like an online cookbook. There were sections of different things that he could make - some marked as easy, some were marked as hard. He used his fingers to scroll down the page, seeing how long it went on for. He could feel her eyes on him as he clicked on one, skimmed it, then went back.

"Plenty to choose from." she commented.

"Almost too much." he mumbled out, wishing for the time where there were physical cookbooks. She gave a small scoff at his response, making a comment about how his age was showing.

After she left him, he spent the rest of the day looking up new recipes for him to try. He jotted down the ones that looked good or that included the items he already had in the kitchen. If he found one that looked good, but he didn't have the ingredients, he would write it down to use in the future. Sometimes the recipes had ingredients he never heard of, but a quick Google search was very helpful in telling him what it was.

The best part of the recipes was that there were always videos attached to the recipes, showing him exactly what to do. Hours passed and he watched countless videos to help him learn more about what he was supposed to be doing. All of the cookware he needed to make the meals had been provided by SHIELD, but he hadn't used it yet so he spent some time washing the dishes to clean them of the thin layer of dust that had accumulated.

For dinner that night, he decided to start with one of the simpler recipes, knowing he would have a little time before Q came back to talk about his day. He wouldn't have much to tell her about; he spent most of the day in his apartment getting everything ready for his first home cooked meal. It had been a while since he had one.

When he was living in New York, he sorta just threw things together and hoped it worked, mostly relying on what he remembered from the past. He did most of the cooking for his mother, not wanting her to stress herself out when she was sick. Even if he couldn't eat all of his meals, he tried his best to make things she would like, in hopes that it would make her feel better.

Unfortunately, he failed to notice that the chicken and pasta recipe was actually one that made enough food for two people. He let out a disappointed sigh as he glanced at the recipe, then looked back at how much food he had. Then, he thought of an easy solution.

Grabbing his phone - he had been upgraded from the easy flip phone to a more modern "smart phone" a few days prior, (though he was unsure what qualified it as being smart), to text Q. She would be over soon, but if she could come over sooner, he figured he'd offer her some of his extra food.

Did you eat dinner yet? He sent the message, watching as the text added to their previous messages.

Not yet! Was planning on eating after our talk. She responded almost immediately. He shook his head as he read her reply; they hadn't eaten breakfast and the only thing he saw her eat were the fruit snacks and a free sample at the store. Who knew if she was even going to eat after their talk.

I accidentally made extra food and don't want it to go to waste. Do you want it? He waited a moment for her response, seeing the bubbles come up that indicated she was typing her response.

Take a picture of it first and send it to me. Need to make sure it looks good...and not like a liver loaf. There was some emoji (a new term he learned) at the end of her text that he didn't understand. He rolled his eyes and let out a sigh, moving over to the kitchen where he had already plated one of the servings.

Clicking on his camera app, he moved the phone so that it was hovering over the plate. It took him a second to figure out how to flip the camera so it wasn't on his face, but once he did, he snapped a photo of the food. Then came the harder part: sending it to her.

He went back to his message thread and tapped on the space where he was to type his reply. There was a little camera icon over on the side so he pressed on it. It opened up his whole camera roll and the most recent photo that was there was the picture of his food. He felt a small flush of pride blossom across his chest as he figured out how to send the picture to her. Plus, he had to admit, the photo looked good - showing all the parts of the meal: the chicken and broccoli mixed with the pasta and the sauce.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on his door. He peered through the peephole to see Q standing on the other side, glancing at her phone. She hadn't text him back though, so he was a little surprised to see her - especially since he had sent the photo only minutes prior.

"That was fast." he commented as he opened the door.

"Yeah, well, I was already on my way before you sent the picture." she gave him a grin, "Just wanted to test your tech skills." He gave her an unamused look as she stepped by him and into the apartment, "Smells good, Cap." She took off her messenger bag and placed it on the dining room chair.

Stepping into the kitchen, Steve picked up the two plates before walking back out to the dining room area and setting them down across from each other. She eyed the plate in front of her, nodding her head slowly as her mouth twisted to the side,

"No sign of liver loaf, so that's good." she teased, making him roll his eyes again.

"I regret ever telling you that, Q." he sighed, having a feeling it wasn't going to go away any time soon. She flashed him a quick grin before sitting down in front of her plate. He did the same, picking up his fork and watching her for a moment. He was a bit nervous about her trying his food. He hadn't cooked for another person in such a long time and when he did cook - it was mostly because he had to eat, paying no attention to how things tasted. So he held his breath as she took her first bite.

"It's good." she complimented him, raising her eyebrows up. He knew she knew that he was looking for her opinion, nervous about if he messed it up, "Really good, Cap." A weight left his shoulders as he realized she was telling the truth. For some reason, he wanted to impress her - prove to her that he really could survive on his own without her.

"Thanks, Q." he breathed out, looking down at his own plate and going to eat his meal. He glanced over at her as he did, noticing that she was pushing the broccoli off to the side. A quick pang of nervousness went through his abdomen; did he mess up the broccoli? Why wasn't she eating it? Or telling him?

"Is the broccoli okay?" he asked, clearing his throat at bit as he shifted in his seat. She quickly looked up from her plate, making eye contact with him, then looking back down at her plate and the obvious separation of broccoli from the rest of the meal.

"Oh, yeah, no, I just don't like broccoli. Or vegetables in general." she waved her fork around in the air in a casual manner, trying to play it off. His brow furrowed a bit at her answer, but he nodded nonetheless. Her diet confused him and he didn't understand why she didn't eat healthy foods - maybe it was something similar to what had plagued him before the serum, or maybe she just survived on minimal meals and junk food, which was also terrible.

Not really knowing how to answer her little factoid, he looked back down at his plate, continuing to eat his dinner. Luckily, she changed the subject, asking him the details about the recipe he made. He answered her questions and noticed a semi-proud look come over her face as he talked. It made him happy that she was not only eating his food, but enjoying it and also looking proud of him for making it.

Halfway through the meal, his phone buzzed with an incoming text. He reached for it, unsure of who could be texting him since Q was sitting right across from him. The number was unfamiliar to him, but the message made it clear who it was.

Operation Assigned. Extraction Immediate.

"Who is it?" she asked, getting him to look up from his phone.

"Uh, SHIELD, I think." he turned the phone around and handed it to her so she could see the message, "I think I'm getting called in." He wasn't surprised that SHIELD has his cell phone number - Dawson told him that they had every piece of information about him on some large database.

"That you are." she agreed, eyebrows raising as she handed back his phone.

"Then we should probably get going." he sighed, pushing back from the table and picking up his plate.

"You want me to come with you?" she asked, looking a little confused. He hesitated for a moment, looking back down at her and taking in a breath. For as much as he enjoyed his newfound freedom, he had to admit that he kinda liked having Q around. She was the only person he actually talked to and could talk to...about anything. Plus, having her with him when he was in the Triskelion always made him feel a bit better.

"If you want to." he responded, trying to play it casual. He didn't want to force her to do anything she didn't want to.

"No, yeah, of course." she nodded at him, "But," she pointed at her plate with her fork, "We're taking this with us." she seriously said.


	15. run support and fill in where needed (m)

Although the text he had received clearly stated that extraction was immediate, it didn't mean the mission started right away. No, if anything extraction meant from his apartment to the Triskelion. He arrived with Q by his side, following her to a briefing room. Clearly, she had more details than he did. As soon as they stepped into the Triskelion, he noticed her demeanor change. She straightened up, fixed her blazer and suddenly, he was Captain again. He understood that she wanted to be professional while in front of other SHIELD agents and analysts, so he made sure to address her as Agent whenever he needed to.

Being led to a conference room, he saw that Natasha was already waiting for them, along with a few other people he had yet to meet. Kristen, who had an eagerness about her and a bright smile to match, was from the Statistics section of SHIELD. She had run all the numbers, pulled all the spreadsheets - he couldn't help but compare her to Q, but where she was more about quality, Kristen was more about quantity.

Natasha wasn't the only one who would be going out into the field with him. There was also the STRIKE Team: SHIELD's Special Tactical Reserve for International Key Emergencies team. They were a group of men and women who were skilled in taking down threats that didn't need to be taken care of by the Avengers. Their leader was a man by the name of Rumlow, who was average height, but made up for his size in strengths and smarts. He seemed to know what he was doing and what he was talking about - it was clear to Steve that he was the one running the mission.

Honestly, it took a bit for Steve to figure out why he was a part of the operation and what he was supposed to be doing. At first he thought it was a training wheels mission, that he wasn't supposed to do anything except learn. That wouldn't be ideal, but he would understand why. So he paid attention to everything that was said, trying to get the gist of the mission. Thankfully, before everyone left, he was given a role: "Run support, fill in where you see fit." Rumlow told him. That much he could do.

Then, he was led down to where Dawson was - Natasha flanking him on one side, Q on the other. Dawson was ready for them with whatever they needed and then some. Where Q had become a little more professional and serious when it came an operation, Dawson seemed at ease and confident - like he was unbothered by what he was doing and, as always, almost bored by explaining his tech to them.

"Fitted your shield with an electronic camouflage mask so it won't stand out like a firework." he stated as he stepped up to Steve, flipping the shield over in his hands, "Press this button right here and it'll go back to normal Fourth of July colors." he pointed out, getting a nod from Steve before he handed it over. Steve slipped it over his wrist, seeing how it fit snug against the new bands. He had already changed into his uniform, wanting to be ready once the STRIKE team was.

"What are these?" Natasha asked from the other side of the lab. Dawson, along with Steve and Q, glanced over to her to see her holding up three coin shaped objects. Dawson let out a huff, annoyed that she was touching his things and stomped over to her.

Every time Steve was in Dawson's lab (twice) he tried not to compare and contrast him with Tony, but it was hard not to. Both were incredibly smart and technological geniuses, both were very confident in their work and could be a bit cocky at times, but Dawson didn't have that seed of bitterness that Tony did.

"Not yours." he mumbled, stepping over to her and snatching one out of her fingers, "They're small discs that can send an extremely high voltage shock straight through your body with a press of this button." he explained, eyebrows raising as he motioned to the button, "Aka they sting." Steve watched the interaction, amused by the fact that Dawson didn't care at all about who Natasha was or what she was capable of. Dawson treated her just as he treated Steve - as a regular, normal, annoying person.

He couldn't help but steal a glance at Q, wanting to see her reaction. Her mouth was twisted to the side like she was trying not to laugh, but her posture told a different story; she was nervous as to how Natasha was going to react to Dawson's blatant contempt.

"Cool." Natasha smirked at him. He scoffed at her, annoyed by her reaction to his gadget. Shaking his head, he turned away from her, letting her go back to fiddling with his things. He stepped back up to Steve and Q, moving over to her and resting his hands on her arms,

"Q, don't think I forgot about you." he softly said, as if he were talking to a child, "I have something for you too." he raised his eyebrows up as he rubbed her arms. Q gave him a confused look, pulling her chin back and shaking her head,

"I don't need anything. I'm not going out on the field." At her words, Dawson's eyebrows knitted in confusion and he glanced to Steve for confirmation. Steve nodded a bit, knowing it was true - she wasn't going out in the field. He couldn't help but feel a bit grateful for that; he knew she was more than capable when it came to talking and showing him things from the modern world, but he wasn't sure if she'd be a good asset to have out in the field. Her lack of strength and her inability to fend for herself would be a setback and Steve knew he would be distracted with making sure no one came near her; she couldn't defend herself.

"Well, fuck, then why did I spend so long making something for you?" Dawson asked, stepping back from the pair. He glanced in between the two incredulously, waiting for an answer to his rhetoric sounding question.

"Because you caaaaare about me." she sang out, a teasing grin on her face. A little smile tug at the corner of Steve's mouth as Dawson reacted to her tease: rolling his eyes and letting out a scoff.

"Whatever." he composed himself, trying to seem unbothered once more. He tucked his hair behind his ears and then shrugged, "Guess you'll never see how cool it is." Q responded with another teasing comment, getting both of them to start tossing insults at each other, even though neither were clearly hurt by the comments.

Steve looked in between the two, amazed by their casual, easy banter. Sure, she had teased him before or made a comment about this or that, but there was something different about how she did it with Dawson. It reminded him of how he used to interact with Bucky - nothing was said out of spite, but they would call each other names or tease each other with past embarrassing stories. It showed Steve how close she and Dawson really were... plus it was entertaining to watch.

Almost like she suddenly remembered Steve and Natasha were still in the room, Q quickly cut off her conversation with Dawson. It was easy to see her mask of professionalism slide back over her face. She straightened up and clasped her hands in front of her as Dawson went to go help Natasha with something or stop her from doing something else. Q glanced over to Steve, making eye contact with him. She held it for a moment before giving him that warm smile and nodding.

Finalizing everything for the operation had taken a long time, so much so that it had gotten very late. It didn't matter though; the mission would be taking them someplace where it was already day time. He wasn't tired, but he did see Q trying to stifle a few yawns while they were getting ready to go on the mission.

"You don't have to stay." he said seriously as he clipped his shield to his back. She gave him a slightly confused look, getting him to continue, "Go home, get some rest." he clarified. A small smile broke out across her features, but she shook her head.

"I'm okay." she assured him, "I'll be here when you get back." she nodded firmly. He returned her small smile and nod, glancing over to see Dawson getting into an argument with Natasha over the electricity coins she had stolen from his lab. There was an amused smirk on her face as Dawson gave up, comically throwing his hands up and stomping away from her.

"Good luck with that one, man." he grumbled out to Steve as he passed by. Steve heard Q take in a breath through her nose and he glanced back to see her shaking her head at her friend's behavior.

"STRIKE! Move out!" Rumlow's voice carried down the hall they were standing in that led to the flight deck.

"Guess that's my cue." Steve sighed out, looking back from Rumlow to Q. She gave him an encouraging smile, but didn't respond. He nodded at her before falling into step with Natasha, walking down the hallway with the rest of the STRIKE team. He was eager to get back into the field; that was where he felt like he belonged. As much as the world had changed, the battlefield was still the same. There were still the good guys and the bad guys and that was all that mattered.

Hours had passed since Cap had left on his first SHIELD field mission. Q had been using the time to catch up on her work, organizing her graphs and charts, planning out the next month and glancing over what he had written in his notebook that they had yet to cross off the list. Not only was she catching up on work, she was also trying to monitor the stream of information that was coming in from the FitBit as he was on his mission. But there was a short delay and it wasn't accurate. So she figured she might as well wait until he was back. That way she would be able to debrief him, then compare it to what the FitBit tracked. She planned to stay at SHIELD until he got back; it was easier than going home and then coming back.

Still, her office was too quiet and her eyes hurt from staring at the screens of her computer. Rolling her chair back, she pushed away from her desk and got up, knowing she needed a break. It was the middle of the night, but she felt like she couldn't sleep until he had gotten back so that they could have a conversation while the events of the operation were still fresh in his head.

Her floor was quiet as she walked toward the elevator. No one was really around; it was the middle of the night, but she knew one person would still be in the building. She took the elevator up to the floor where Cap's briefing was, walking past a few conference rooms before she found the one she was looking for. The blinds were closed, but the door was unlocked, so she let herself in.

Dawson was sitting at the end of the table, feet up as he reclined back in his chair. There was a bag of Cheetos on his stomach and his eyes flicked from the television screens to her before he looked back to the screens,

"Sup, bitch?" he asked through a mouthful of Cheetos. She yawned before shaking her head, walking over to him as she answered him,

"Nothing much, dick." she settled into the chair next to him, leaning back as she looked to see what was on the screens, "Is this the feed from op?"

"Yeah." he nodded, digging his hand into the bag of Cheetos before offering her some. She took a handful, cupping them with one hand while eating them with the other. At one point, with her free hand, she took out the clip she had in her hair, freeing it from the tight, professional bun hairstyle it had been in.

"You don't have to work on your secret project?" she asked after a moment, finishing her Cheetos so that she could shimmy out of her blazer, then roll up her shirt sleeves.

"I do, but I needed a break." he said as if that was enough of an answer. And it was; she understood the need for a break.

The two watched the feed from the op in silence, not really knowing what was going on, but hoping that they could figure it out. Since it wasn't from a SHIELD camera, they were relying on multiple traffic and security cameras to show them what was going on. Because of this, there also wasn't any audio with the visual so they just had to make up what was going on in their heads. She could see a grainy outline of Cap surveying the environment - they must've just got there.

When he was being briefed on the mission, she noticed something that was unnoticeable to everyone else in the room. There was a shift in his demeanor, the way he carried himself, like he slipped back into the soldier he was. It was as smooth as putting on a jacket, or a mask. She knew how comfortable he was being a soldier; it came easy to him, but she wondered how it was going to go after two years of trying to be a man from a different time.

"Hey," she glanced to Dawson, an eyebrow raise from him letting her know he was listening, "What was that thing you made for me?" she asked curiously. The sight of the camouflage shield reminded her of what he had said hours earlier. He waved his Cheeto dust covered hand at her, scrunching up his features,

"It's nothing." She gave him a look, staring at him until he glanced over at her to notice it. Then he sighed, taking his feet off the table and tossing the back of Cheetos on the table. As he brushed his hands off, she reached for the bag, wanting more of the snack food.

Alternating between watching him and watching the screens, she caught sight of him pulling something out of his pocket. It looked like her power balance bracelet she had bought on a whim after reading some article online, but never used. She ignored the obvious remark to make about how he was just carrying it around, instead going for something else to yell at him about.

"Did you go into my desk again?" she asked incredulously through a mouthful of Cheetos.

"Yep." he said simply, only to have her reach across and smack him on the arm.

"Stop doing that!" she chastised. He rolled his eyes, ignoring her scolding.

"Why?" he asked back, "'Fraid I'm gonna find your vibrator?" he shot back.

"I don't keep my vibrator in my desk." she volleyed, half a second away from sticking her tongue out at him. He tilted his head to the side, sitting up a bit straighter and pulling to corners of his mouth down,

"Really? Then it must've been your dil-" he didn't get a chance to finish; she leaned forward and smacked his arm again, and another time to make a point. He started laughing, shying away from her and batting her hand away from him, "Okay, okay! Jesus! God, you're a child." he stopped her, letting out a huff and then shoving his hands through his hair. "Do you wanna see this or not?" he asked, glaring at her. She gave him a proud smirk as she settled back in her chair.

Gesturing for him to continue, she went back to eating the Cheetos. He fiddled with the power balance bracelet, flipping it over and she could see that he had in fact made some adjustments. She wasn't sure what he did or what was the result, but she was sure he would explain it to her.

"So these things claim that they can fix your balance by using the natural energy field of your body, which we know is bullshit." he scoffed, shaking his head before continuing, "But there is enough space in there that led me to believe that maybe there could be a hologram - there wasn't, by the way." She stayed quiet, knowing not to interrupt him when he got started on his rants about his gadgets, "There was some sort of technology in it so obviously I fucked around with it and modified it until it did with what I wanted."

"And what did you want it to do?" she asked after a beat of silence had made it clear he was waiting for her to prompt him.

"This." he strapped the power balance bracelet on his wrist and made a quick motion, activating the technology inside. A giant force field expanded from it, creating a shield a little bit bigger than Cap's.

At the action, she pushed out of her chair, standing up and looking at the force field with wide eyes. He had created some cool things before, but this was something entirely new. Reaching out, she pressed her hand against it, feeling the tension and pushback from it. Dawson had a proud smile on his face as she tested out his new gadget.

"Dope, right?" he grinned at her.

"Yeah." she softly said with a nod. She continued to test the strength of the force field, wondering how much it could hold. The two of them continued to mess around with the force field: bouncing things off of it, throwing things at it, and making sure all the kinks were worked out.

After, the two keep a casual eye on the screens, using the time to catch up with each other since most of her time was spent with Cap and his was spent on his secret project. She figured out that he had a major crush on Agent Romanoff (which was why surprising since he acted like his usual self) while he learned that Cap had started calling her Q. The late night turned into the early morning hours and Q's body was screaming for sleep. She wanted so badly to stay up and be able to talk to Cap as soon as he got back, but her body was not having it. Even though she didn't realize it, her body figured out that she wouldn't be of much use to him if she was falling asleep during their conversation.

So imagine her surprise when she was woken up with a careless shake of her shoulder. She was on the couch in the conference room, her blazer draped over her as a makeshift blanket and Dawson standing above her - looking grim.

"What happened?" she asked, immediately noticing the look. Something went wrong, it had to.

"They're back." he stated seriously. He held out a tablet to her, "And you might want to take a look at this." Q sat up on the couch, blinking sleep out of her eyes as she took the tablet. One hand pressed play on the video, while the other shrugged her blazer back on.

The footage was much clearer than what they had been watching and included the mission audio. It was a longer clip, but it was the only one that mattered. Her eyes were trained on the screen as she got to her feet, stomach rolling. Goddamnit, Cap.

Exiting the conference room, she made her way down to the elevator, hoping it would get her to the flight deck on time. The hallway led her down to the double doors where she paused, waiting expectantly for them to open. She used the time to organize her thoughts, make sure she knew what she was going to say and how she was going to approach what she saw on the feed.

Suddenly, the doors opened, snapping her out of her thoughts. Rumlow was the first one out, dirty, grimy and looking very annoyed. He walked right past her and she didn't say a word to him, but wanted to. The rest of the STRIKE team filed out after him, ignoring her; she didn't matter to them, she wasn't conducting their post-ops. And she didn't care about them either, she only cared about the man who walked out after everyone else.

Steve walked off of the flight deck, entering SHIELD once more. He was a little thrown off by it being daytime and could feel the jet-lag setting in already. A slight hum reverberated all around his body. He wasn't hurt, but he did ache more than he expected to. His body hadn't been used that way in a long time so it was overcompensating as it tried to heal itself. But it was a good feeling; it meant that he had actually done something.

Reentering the Triskelion, he saw that Q was waiting for him the same spot he had left her twelve hours earlier. The only noticeable difference was that her hair was down out of the bun it had been in, waves cascading down her shoulders. She kept her eyes trained on him as he got closer, doing a quick scan of how he appeared - looking for any external signs of hurt or distress.

"Captain." she greeted him seriously. He went to respond, but she didn't let him, "Follow me and we'll start your debrief." Without another word, she turned away from him, expecting him to follow behind her. He did, but he was a little concerned about how she greeted him - he hoped it was just part of the professionalism she tried so hard to keep when they were in the Triskelion.

She led him back to the conference room where he had been briefed the evening before. He noticed how empty it was, a sharp contrast to how it was several hours earlier during the briefing. Waiting until he was in the room, she shut the door and pressed a button to lower the blinds so the wall of windows was covered - no one could see or out. He sat down in one of the chairs on the side of the table that was facing the door; therefore, she had to take a seat on the opposite side. There was no trace of their previous brief, but he did notice that she had a tablet resting next to her notepad.

"How'd it go?" she asked, getting the ball rolling after a beat of silence.

"It went well." he answered simply, nodding a bit as he thought back, "We completed the mission." She didn't respond - because obviously that was clear, waiting for more details about his mission and his thoughts.

He continued, starting from when they first stepped into the Triskelion and ending with him getting back on the quinjet. The mission turned out to be some sort of raid, taking care of something that Fury needed to be taken care of. The words flowed easily and she made notes during the whole time, never once mentioning the tablet that was resting next to her. Every so often, his eyes trailed over to it, silently wondering what it contained, but it didn't deter him from talking about the operation.

"So there were no other issues? You didn't have any problems working with anyone on the STRIKE Team or Natasha?" she asked after he finished talking. He paused, pulling the corners of his mouth down and shaking his head,

"No." he answered firmly. Then he tilted his head to the side, remembering something, "Well, there was something, but it was no big deal." She looked up from her notepad, raising her eyebrows at him curiously. He took in a breath, glancing away from her before starting to explain what happened - honestly, it was no big deal.

Sure, his role was to run support and fill in where needed, which was exactly what he did. He supported, and filled in where needed. There was no need for anyone else to try and take on what he could easily do. And honestly, he didn't even need the STRIKE team or Natasha; the mission was simple enough he could do on his own. He took out all of the mercs before any of the STRIKE team could. Then, ignoring Rumlow's orders, he took care of what needed to be taken care of, relishing in the fact that he was back in a familiar place, doing what he knew how to do. Be a soldier.

"So you disobeyed orders." Q stated after he finished telling her what happened.

"No, I didn't, Q." he shook his head, "I was tasked with support, so I was supporting."

"You took over the mission." Her voice was serious, "I saw what happened, Cap." The tablet made sense now; she had seen what had happened, but still he knew she didn't see it the right way - he had helped, done something good. He let out a huff, beginning to get frustrated with her,

"I did what I had to in order to complete mission." he answered her seriously. Her eyebrows shot up in disbelief,

"Seriously?!" she responded, "You compromised the mission! Your orders were very clear and you completely disobeyed them." she chastised him, "You could've gotten someone hurt or killed or you could've been killed yourself!" she paused, but he didn't butt in, "You aren't allowed to do that."

"The hell I am!" he defended himself, not understanding why he was the one being yelled at. If it were any other time, she would've stopped at the language he used - going to poke fun at him, but they were on a roll.

"The hell you aren't!" she replied, "You had direct orders, which you ignored for your own personal reasons, endangering everyone else who was working with you!" She was so angry with him. All that talk about working as a team with the Howling Commandos, about his thoughts on being on missions and raids, and about how being a soldier meant following orders...all of that seemed to disappear without a second glance as soon as he stepped onto the field. She wondered if there was something deeper he wasn't telling her, but didn't linger on it; they were still pretty heated.

"I'm a Captain, you can't speak to me like that." he responded sternly to her, standing up to get some sort of power over her. She let out a groan and rolled her eyes. Pushing back from the table, she stood up as well, keeping equal with him,

"Please, you're just as much a Captain as I was the lead in my high school musical!" she shook her head, hoping he understood that she wasn't the lead in her high school musical, "It's not a real title." she said with a simple shrug of her shoulders.

"Sure was when I was fighting the battle in New York -"

"Two weeks!" she shouted out at him suddenly, effectively cutting him off and stopping him from defending himself. He paused, keeping eye contact with her as she held up two fingers, "You had two weeks to readjust to the world you woke up in before the attack on New York happened." Her voice was steady, tone serious. "You didn't have time to register the traumatic experience you went through."

"I went under in 1941 and woke up in 2011." he answered back, not liking where this was going, "Trust me, I think it registered." he snapped, eyebrows going up. The sass didn't even affect her; she was quick with her response.

"Not correctly." she argued, "The grief and loss and shock...Your body should've gone into a catatonic state with all the shit that you had to deal with. But instead you threw yourself into another war because it was the first familiar thing you came across."

"I didn't have a choice." he answered, lifting his chin up a bit. She shook her head, not believing him, "People were going to die! I had to help!"

"What about who was helping you!?" she cried out, throwing her hand toward him, eyes blown wide. Her question hung there in the space between them, waiting for an answer, but both of them already knew the answer: no one. There was a tense moment of silence before he took in a breath and fixed her with a serious look.

"I was doing just fine." he lied, but just as seriously as the look he was giving her. "And I was even before you came along." She gave a disbelieving laugh and broke eye contact, rolling her lips in and crossing her arms over her stomach.

"Are we done here?" he asked after another moment of tense silence, jaw clicking as he clenched his teeth together. He didn't know how they had gotten so off track, but he didn't want to be in the room anymore. Frustration and anger seeped through him, his mind racing as he tried to control his temper.

"Yes." she answered, tone devoid of any emotion. She was clearly not going to be able to get through to him; he had already shut her out so she might as well let him go, "Have a good rest of your day, Captain." He gave her a firm nod and stepped back from the table. She didn't watch him leave, only hearing the door softly close behind him.

Clenching his fists, he felt the material of the fingerless gloves try to expand across his knuckles. He let out a slow breath, trying to stop his racing thoughts. The hallway began to close in around him - he needed to get out of the Triskelion as soon as possible. He made his way back to the floor where he had put on his uniform, shedding it and exchanging it for his plain clothes. After, he went to the garage to retrieve his motorcycle and he passed by her car as he went.

She couldn't understand that he needed to do what he did. That this was unusual for him; he usually followed orders. He was very good at doing that, but he didn't because no one else had been paying attention. She didn't see it that way, only seeing how he disobeyed direct orders.

The frustration only faded a small amount as he sped away from the Triskelion, but it still lingered. Her words echoed in his head as he paced his apartment. Trying to drown her out with music didn't help. He knew alcohol wouldn't do a damn thing either. The frustration grew stronger each time he thought back to what she had said to him, how she had treated him - he wasn't a child! He survived a war, he could take care of himself - and was.

Suddenly, he spun around, fist slamming into the wall next to the door. His fist went straight through the drywall, pain coming a short second later. He kept his fist in the wall, breathing heavily as he felt the pain spread across his fist. It was a better feeling than what he was currently feeling. Then, he carefully drew it out, plaster and debris falling off of his hand and onto the floor.

Shaking his hand out, he walked away from the hole and into the kitchen. He rinsed his hand off, watching how his blood mixed with the rest of the dust and white stuff from the wall. Once his hand was clean, he patted it dry with a dish towel - knowing it would be healed in a few minutes.

There was a quick knock at the door, causing him to go over and carefully look as to who was on the other side. Kate stared back at him through the eyehole and his stomach knotted up. With a quick glance to the hole in the wall, he opened the door a bit and hoped that she couldn't see it.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, brows knitting in concern, "I heard this loud bang from your apartment." she explained her question.

"I just...dropped something." he lied quickly, not wanting to get into it or admit to what he did and worry her; he was fine, "Everything's okay." he gave her a quick smile, hoping that was enough for her. She eyed him for a moment, eyes shifting over to where the hole in the hallway was before she looked back at him and nodded.

"Okay, well, let me know if you need anything." Her eyebrows rose with her offer before she gave him a small smile and stepped away. He watched her step into her apartment then shut his door.

Turning, he went to inspect the hole in the wall. A deep sigh escaped as he realized the damage he had done out of a fit of frustration. As terrible as it was, it did relieve some of the frustration that had been attached to him since his argument with Q. But that then, in turn, left room for him to really start to think about the argument. His brain took over, already clicking into place about how he handled it wrong, how he messed up and how there was bound to be consequences.

Clenching her fists hard enough to feel her nails prick her skin, she let out a slow breath. She waited a few moments after the door had shut behind him, then she gathered up her notepad and the tablet, exiting the room. There was no sign of him in the hallway; she wasn't sure if that was a good thing or bad thing. She made her way back to her office, gathering up her things as the fire of frustration burned inside of her. All she was trying to do was help. He was so stubborn, it was going to kill him - if she didn't do it first. Not only that, he couldn't even see that he had made a mistake. No matter how many times he tried to spin it, he was in the wrong. Even if it ended well, he had done something wrong.

As she walked back to her car, she reached into her bag for her cell phone. She went to her recent calls and clicked on Rumlow's contact name. It rang once before he picked up and she spoke first,

"An hour and a half."

"It's the middle of the day." he responded in a hushed tone.

"I don't care." she said seriously, "An hour and a half."

"I'll be there." he agreed before she hung up.

Shortly after she got back to her apartment, he was knocking at her door. The moment she opened it, his hands were on her, shoving her up against the door he had just closed. His mouth was roughly pressing up against hers in desperate, shallow kisses as she worked fast to take off his shirt before her hands went for his belt, unbuckling it and shoving his pants and boxers down in one fell swoop.

His hands were squeezing all over her, teeth scraping against her bottom lip as he worked to remove her bra. She rutted against him, wanting friction, his hand going to grab her jaw as his mouth went to suck hard marks to her neck. A gasp escaped from her and usually she would stop him, saying something about rules, but for some reason, she didn't say anything.

As his hand tightly gripped her jaw, his other hand moved to her hip, snapping her underwear against her skin. A small moan escaped as she anticipated what was coming next. Luckily, she didn't have to wait long; he shoved his fingers past her underwear as his mouth moved to take one of her nipples into his mouth - hand releasing from her jaw so he could give some attention to her other nipple. Her head fell back against the door with a hard noise and she let her eyes close, relishing in what he was giving her. And for a bit, it was just enough, but soon she wanted more than just his fingers.

They never made it to the bedroom, but neither of them cared; they both got what they wanted. It was hard and rough, both of them needing to bang out some frustrations. Blossoming bruises and hickeys were enough to show that it had happened, but were either strategically placed (by Q) or to be covered up with makeup (because Rumlow didn't care about the where).

When it was over, she let him use her shower, but reminded him not to use her toothbrush - instead, giving him a mint before he left. He had to go back to SHIELD to finish up the rest of the day, but she was free to do whatever she wanted. Which meant she was free to really start to think about her argument with Cap. Her brain took over, already clicking into place about how she handled it wrong, how she messed up and how there was bound to be consequences.


	16. a daily limit of embarrassment

All it took was one week for everything to get royally fucked up. Her graphs, her charts, her notepad - all of it was ruined. Their progress had slammed to a screeching stop and then turned around and started going back in the direction they had started. It was like the past two months had been completely erased. And she was frustrated.

It didn't matter that his level of comfortability had been trending upward, or that his moods had positively leveled - only having small dips, normal dips, or that he actually maybe considered them friends. None of it mattered anymore. They were right back to where they had started, but somehow it was worse than it was in beginning because of the significant progress that had been made before their argument.

The shift was undeniable, practically palpable, and almost immediate. After their argument, she noticed a major dip in her graphs and charts, which she figured was just as a reaction to the argument. Sharon had told her about the hole in his wall and she had even seen it for herself. That was a clear reaction to the argument, a physical one. But then her graphs and charts had held steady. He had settled there - becoming apparent in both her graphs and her interactions with him.

Their talks had become tense and serious, but also uninformative and useless. She wasn't getting anything important out of him. Just when he was starting to open up a bit more, somehow their argument caused him to draw back. He started calling her Agent again (even if they weren't in the Triskelion) and answering her questions with one word answers (even though he knew she didn't like it). She understood why he was acting like he was - no one liked being yelled at or told off in a way that made them take a second look at their actions, but she couldn't help but take it personally. Like it was his way of punishing her for yelling at her.

As a reaction, she acted just as he was with her: serious and professional. She saw him in the mornings, talked with him before his training sessions with Natasha, then didn't see him again until that night where they had a brief conversation and then she left. They barely spent four hours together nowadays and only about two of them were spent actually talking. Her graphs and charts were suffering, which made her frustrated; there was a clear fix, but it was currently a last resort. She hoped that time would've healed all wounds by now, but it had been a week and she was getting impatient. Which wasn't good when paired with frustration.

Still, she kept her emotions to herself. Cap was doing the same, even if the graphs reflected what was truly going on inside. She didn't comment either, just silently fuming to herself every time she imported the data and saw how nothing positively changed. Part of her wanted him to apologize first; he had made the mistake which caused the argument. Another part of her knew she needed to apologize first; she shouldn't have yelled at him like that. And yet, nothing happened - except her graphs and charts kept getting worse.

"Hey, suit!" Agent Romanoff's voice rang out across the gym, getting Q to look up from her crossword puzzle, "Wanna jump in?" she asked, eyebrows raising, tongue pushing her cheek out.

Every single day for the past few weeks, Agent Romanoff asked Q if she wanted to spar with her. There were different variations of the question, but the theme remained the same. And each time, Q denied her offer, not wanting to take the time away from Cap. She was content with working on her crossword puzzle until they were finished. It gave her something to focus on rather than the guilt and frustration of what had been going on between her and him. And when she was stuck on a clue, she would take the time to watch Agent Romanoff's interactions with him, learning more about her without directly interacting with her herself.

For as confident as Agent Romanoff appeared, Q noticed that underneath it all she was just trying to impress Cap. She was trying to prove to him that she was a good person to have by his side. Show him that she was valuable as a partner and also as a friend. God, she was so desperate for friends - living a life as a SHIELD spy had to be a lonely one.

"Sure." Q answered Agent Romanoff's question, placing her pen inside her crossword book before closing it. At her answer, both Agent Romanoff and Cap's eyebrows went up in surprise, neither one of them thinking she was going to take Agent Romanoff up on her offer. They were so used to Q saying no that neither of them knew what to say.

Luckily, Agent Romanoff recovered quicker than Cap, nodding as an impressed look came over her face. Glancing to him, she gestured for his punch pad gloves, ignoring his hesitation to hand them over. As they finished up with whatever they had been working on, Q shrugged out of her blazer, grateful that she had decided to wear pants that morning - even though August had started it's descent upon DC. She laid it over her folding chair and then made her way over to the mat, slipping off her rubber soled shoes and taking off her socks before stepping onto the mat.

He didn't say anything to her - he had decided not to speak to her after their morning talk unless he had to. That annoyed her too. Christ on a cracker, he was so stubborn. As he stepped off of the mat, Agent Romanoff handed her a pair of fingerless gloves to protect her knuckles. Q pulled them on over her hands, flexing her hand a bit as she tightened them.

It had been a long while since she had done any form of physical activity - in fact running after Cap on their first day had been the last time she had done anything and that was almost two months ago. Before SHIELD, she used to be an active person: being surprisingly good at gymnastics despite her height and being known to hold her own when it came to a few scuffles. Most of her expertise in fighting was self taught out of necessity. When she was a teenager, she relied on her instincts to get herself out of whatever trouble she herself got into, shaping those instincts as time went on into what she declared as her way of fighting - no matter if it was the right way or wrong way.

But after SHIELD recruited her and sat her behind a desk, she didn't get a chance to exercise those skills and keep them sharp. And it was more of a personal choice than one that was forced on her (even though it was also sort of forced on her). SHIELD was a chance for her to leave all the shit she did behind her and start over. She wasn't about to pass up that opportunity.

Although she was kind of nervous facing off with Agent Romanoff - even though she promised to go easy, her muscles remembered certain moves. It was just like riding a bike. And it felt good. It was a nice way to blow out some of the frustrations and annoyance she was holding onto for the past week. Of course, she never got Agent Romanoff on the ground, but the motions felt familiar and surprisingly, she was able to hold her own. At least for a little while.

Since she hadn't worked out her muscles in a very long time, her body became very tired, very quickly. Only a few minutes had passed and a thin layer of sweat was covering her entire body. Her heart was pounding against her chest, her muscles were on fire and she was practically panting as she tried to get into a normal breathing pattern. But she kept going; Cap's eyes were on her the whole time, watching as she sparred with Agent Romanoff and for some reason she wanted to prove to him that she could do it.

Then, she lost her balance. She went down - hard, her ankle taking almost all of her weight as she did. She landed with a thump and a groan, feeling her cheeks heat up quickly from embarrassment. She had been doing so well, maybe not so well, but well and she blew it all because she couldn't control her center of gravity. It was possibly the most embarrassing to happen to her that day. Cap immediately went to help her, only to stop when Agent Romanoff stepped in front of him, a worried look on her face.

"You alright?" she asked, extending a hand as she did. Q waved her hand off, wanting to get up on her own because,

"I'm fine." she nodded, pressing her hands flat against the mat and then pushing herself up.

As soon as she tried to put weight onto her ankle, it immediately started screaming at her to stop. A wince came over her face, alerting Agent Romanoff that she was, in fact, not fine. Sinking back down onto the mat, she stuck her hurt leg out, hands going to pull up her pant leg then touch her ankle as Cap stepped onto the mat. He crouched down next to her, a concerned look etched across his features watching her face as she tenderly pressed her fingers to her ankle. She bit the inside of her lip, not wanting to show that the pressure of her fingers caused her pain.

"Maybe we should get her to Medical." Agent Romanoff suggested, getting both of them to look at her. Her arms were crossed over her chest as she stared down at Q, the same look of concern on her face that was on his.

"No, no, I'm fine, really." Q shook her head, not wanting to make a big deal out of it, "Just give me a minute."

"It might be sprained." he said to her, getting her attention.

"It's not. I just lost my balance and landed wrong. I'll be fine in a minute." she assured him. He stared at her, obviously not believing her, but he stayed quiet. For once, she was grateful he did.

"I'll go get an ice pack." Agent Romanoff broke the silence, "We'll keep it on there for a few minutes, but if the swelling doesn't go down, then we're going to Medical, okay?" she said in a tone that made it clear it wasn't really a question, but Q nodded anyway. She wasn't about to argue with her.

After Agent Romanoff left to go retrieve an ice pack, he settled down next to her, pulling his knees up and draping his arms over them. They sat in silence for the few minutes Agent Romanoff was gone and it was the longest silence Q had ever experienced with him. She was used to having moments of silence with him, when she was using them to her advantage - getting him to talk about something or remember other things, but this felt different. It felt tense and she didn't like it.

The minutes dragged on until Agent Romanoff came back with an ice pack, handing it Q so she could press it onto her swelling ankle. The coldness of the ice pack made her shiver slightly, but it felt nice to have it against her skin. It still hurt when she put too much pressure on it, but she tried not to react to it, not wanting to worry either of them. The embarrassment she felt was too much as it was.

"All things considering, you did really well." Agent Romanoff spoke up after a minute. An embarrassed smile came over Q's features as she kept her eyes locked on the ice pack on her ankle,

"Thank you." she responded quietly.

"Where did you learn that one move?" Agent Romanoff continued, getting her to look up from her ankle, "The one where I had you by the wrist and you pulled yourself free." she clarified, "Not many people know how to get out of that."

"Oh…" Q trailed off, trying to come up with an excuse. She couldn't necessarily tell her about how when she was a teenager, she had to learn how to get out of people grabbing her; she needed to get away and get away fast. Because then that would lead to more questions, ones involving her past that she tried so hard to keep in the past, "Guess I just got lucky." she settled on, giving her a tight, small smile.

"Guess so." Agent Romanoff repeated, eyebrows raising; clearly she didn't believe her, "How's the ankle?" she moved on, glancing down to Q's ankle. She lifted the ice pack, showing that the swelling hadn't gone down at all. She let out a disappointed sigh at her muscles' inability to heal themselves at a faster pace.

"Looks like you're going to Medical." Agent Romanoff quipped out.

"I'll take her." Cap offered, speaking for the first time since he sat down next to her. She looked over to him, already shaking her head,

"No, it's okay. I can get there myself." she shot him down, but he wasn't listening to her. He pushed himself up to his feet, reaching down to take her hand and gently helping her to her feet. The ice pack fell to the ground and she made sure to put her weight onto her left, unhurt foot.

"I don't mind." he assured her, giving her a quick smile before his face became serious again, "Let's go get you checked out."

Letting out a sigh as he stepped off the mat, she had no choice but to limp after him. Agent Romanoff gave her a pitying smile as she limped by, patting her shoulder as she went. He gathered her things up as he walked back to the folding chair, handing her her socks and shoes. She sat down on the chair and pulled her socks on, opting to keep her shoes off so that they wouldn't hurt her foot. As she did, he picked up her messenger bag, pulling it on his shoulder and holding her blazer and crossword puzzle book.

They made their way to the elevator, him keeping up with her very slow, limping pace. They were quiet as they got into the elevator - he called out their destination before she had the chance too. As the elevator took them to Medical, she leaned against the glass windows, taking the weight off of her foot. He glanced over to her to make sure she was doing okay before the doors open and he let her get off of the elevator before he did. Her embarrassment grew with each limp she took; it was one thing to fall down in front of the world's most feared assassin and Captain fucking America, it was a whole other thing to hurt yourself and have to have said Captain take you to Medical.

"How can I help you?" The woman at the front asked as they approached her. Q handed over her SHIELD ID and let the woman put in her information as she listened to him,

"We need to see a doctor." he said seriously, "She might have a sprained ankle." he explained. The woman handed her ID back over and she clipped it back onto her waistband. Since SHIELD had all of her medical records, there were no forms to fill out so the two of them stood on the opposite side of the desk as the woman pulled up Q's file, inputting why she was at Medical.

"Follow me." The woman gestured to them after she was finished.

They were led down to an empty examination room where Q was told to change into one of the gown and then a doctor would be with them shortly. To give her some privacy, he stepped out into the hall, leaving her to change into the gown. She kept her underwear on and made sure the gown was tied correctly so that nothing was about to escape before letting him back in the room.

"You don't have to stay." she said to him as she managed to get herself up on the examination table. He nodded, but didn't respond, sitting down in one of the chairs, her things in the chair next to him. For some reason, it was like he wanted to help her - even though he was very angry with her. It made for an awkward situation. She let out a sigh, looking around the room as that tense silence descended over them again. It lasted for another couple of minutes before she couldn't take it anymore,

"God, I'm sorry, okay?" she said suddenly, breaking the silence and getting his attention, "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I shouldn't have said those things to you the way that I did." He was quiet for a moment, staring at her and then letting his eyes shift down as his eyebrows furrowed,

"You aren't the first person who's yelled at me." He shook his head and then looked up at her, "And you're not going to be the last."

"Then why are you acting the way you are?" she asked. He took in a deep breath, fingers twisting around themselves as he thought about his answer,

"Because I'm a little embarrassed." he said simply, nodding a bit, "At first I was angry and frustrated, but then I cleared my head -"

"By punching a wall." she cut him off, not being able to help herself. He gave a slight laugh and nodded,

"Right." he paused, "I yelled at you too, you know, and I shouldn't have. That wasn't fair." He shook his head.

"No, it's fine, it's fine." she quickly shut him down, suddenly not wanting him to take any of the blame, "You can yell at me all you want."

"I shouldn't." he repeated himself, voice firm, "It's not okay." She eyed him for a moment before taking in a breath, leaning forward a bit on the table,

"It's okay for you to get frustrated with me. It's a natural response to what we're doing. You're bound to get annoyed with me at some point. I don't take it personally." she assured him, pairing it with a small smile. Even if she had taken it personally, he didn't need to know that. He hesitated for a moment before nodding, sitting back in his chair, but not relaxing.

"Honestly, I'm surprised it took this long for you to yell at me." she commented, screwing her mouth to the side as she shrugged. He let out a small, breathy laugh, closing his eyes as he let his head fall back against the wall.

"Trust me, there have been plenty of times where I've yelled at you in my head." he responded, looking over to see her reaction.

"Oh, damn." she whispered out, raising her eyebrows up and giving him a slight grin, "Good to know…" She crossed her arms over her chest as he let out another small laugh.

"Jar." he pointed out before pausing, "I am sorry, Q." he said after a moment, becoming serious again, "It won't happen again."

"It will." she nodded at him, knowing he couldn't make a promise like that; there was bound to be another time where he got frustrated or angry with her and would yell - even if he didn't mean it, "But it's okay, Cap. And I'm sorry too."

"You already said that."

"You haven't forgiven me yet." He gave a small laugh at that, shaking his head and then making eye contact with her,

"I forgive you." he replied, a small smile on his face before he raised his eyebrows, "Happy?"

"Very much so, thank you." She pursed her lips in a satisfied smile and sat back against the wall behind the examination table. A weight was lifted off her shoulders as she did so; she didn't feel as frustrated with him or guilty about the fight anymore. They would still need to talk about it, but for now, the issue was resolved - they had both apologized and could move on, getting back to how they were a week before.

When the doctor finally came in, Cap stayed there the whole time, listening to everything the doctor said and watching everything the doctor did. It reminded her of the time she left him at Medical the first day they met, except she left - he stayed. Stayed through the examination, the X-rays and finally the diagnosis.

"The good news is, it's not broken." The doctor said, "Bad news, it is a small grade two sprain." She let out a disappointed sigh at the news, "We'll give you some crutches, but try and stay off of it as much as you can in the next few days. Ice it and keep it elevated to relieve the swelling." he instructed.

She listened to the rest of his instructions, nodding and verbally agreeing to everything he said. She let him wrap her ankle up in an elastic band to help with the compression. He advised that she come back in the next week, just to make sure it was healed properly.

"Do you have anyone who can take you home?" he asked, finishing up her release forms.

"I will." Cap volunteered before she could say she would be taking herself home. And before she could argue, the doctor was already signing the forms, handing a pen over so Cap could sign his name as well.

"Feel better, Agent Proctor." The doctor bid her goodbye, nodding at her and then Cap before leaving the room. As soon as the door shut, she went to get off the table, shaking her head as she did,

"You don't have to take me home. I got it." she assured him. He stood up from the chair, reaching out to help her off the table, but she ignored him. She managed to get off the table, taking the crutches from his other hand and balancing herself on them, "Please, just leave me alone to drown in my own embarrassment." she pleaded with him, getting him to laugh.

"No, no." he shook his head, hands going to rest at his hips, "I volunteered. Signed a form even, so I'm legally required to." She deep sighed at his explanation, shoulders slumping down in defeat. "Plus, you can't drive." he added on, reminding her and getting her to look down at her right foot, which was currently bandaged up. She took in a breath; he wasn't gonna let her off the hook so easy.

"What about your motorcycle?" she asked, knowing he had driven separate.

"We'll be back tomorrow, right?" he asked back, "I'll get it then."

"What about if you want to go anywhere today? Or go visit Peggy?" she argued back, not wanting him to have to sacrifice his whole day for her.

"I'll walk. Or take the metro." he said simply. She eyed him for a moment, trying to think of more excuses as to why he couldn't take her home. There wasn't any other valid reasons she could think of.

"Fine, you can take me home, but other than that, you don't have to do anything else." She gave in, but still kept her boundaries set. She was still a professional after all.

Luckily, they didn't run into anyone on the trek back to the garage. The last thing she needed was Dawson freaking out about her on crutches - especially because once he heard about how she sprained her ankle, the teasing would never stop. She had experienced enough embarrassment for one day (and still sort of was). All she wanted was to go back to her apartment, put her foot up on a pillow and do some work until she had to hobble over to Cap's apartment for their evening talk.

At her car, he helped her into the passenger seat, putting her things in the back seat before getting in the driver's seat. He started the car up and went to put it into gear before pausing for a moment.

"Do you not know how to drive?" she asked, perking her eyebrows up. He knew how to drive a motorcycle, he should know how to drive a car.

"I know how to drive." he rolled his eyes, "I just realized I have no clue where you live." he looked over to her, squinting a bit. She tilted her head to the side, pulling the corners of her mouth down as she did so; that was true. He didn't.

"I'll direct you." she nodded, shifting in her seat as he put the car in gear, pulling out of the garage and driving away from SHIELD.

Since he wasn't aware that she lived literally right down the street from him, she watched his reaction when he drove into a familiar neighborhood. His eyebrows went up and a look of surprise came over his features,

"It's right here." she said as he slowed down in front of her apartment building. He pulled her car over onto the side of the road and leaned forward, looking down the street.

"I can see my apartment from here." he realized, brows furrowing a bit, "Is that the deli?"

"Yep." she nodded, going to unbuckle herself, "Thanks for the ride, Cap. I'll see you tonight, okay?" She went to get out of the car, only to have him stop her,

"Hey, wait, let me help you." he reached out to touch her arm. His touch was light, but enough to get her attention; it surprised her. They hadn't been physical with each other before - she always tried to err on the side of giving him enough personal space.

Then, without letting her argue, he opened his door and got out of the car. She watched him jog around the front of the car to her side where he opened the back door to get her crutches out then opened her door. She took the crutches from him and hoisted herself out of the car and onto the crutches. As she got herself comfortable on the crutches, he ducked back into the car to get her things.

"C'mon." he jerked his head to the side, indicating that she should follow him as he shut the door.

"No, Cap, it's okay, I can handle it from here." she tried to stop him. She appreciated his help, but she was really embarrassed by what happened and didn't need his pity; that would just make it worse. He stayed quiet as he stepped around her car to the sidewalk. She hobbled after him stopping as he turned to look at her,

"This is making you uncomfortable, isn't it?" he asked seriously.

"A little, yes." she answered truthfully, quickly following it up with, "But for personal reasons. I don't like people from work knowing where I live."

"You know where I live." he pointed out.

"I picked out where you live." she clarified, getting a small laugh from him before it died off, leaving them in silence for a moment. Then she asked, "Why are you helping me?" Being genuinely curious; less than four hours ago they were in a fight, barely speaking to each other.

"Because we're friends." he said casually, pairing it with an equally casual shrug. She paused, hearing the word he used and how he used it. Sure, she thought that that maybe he thought they were friends, but she never heard him used the word out loud. And yet, just then, he confirmed he really did think they were friends. She tried not to smile at that, ducking her head down to hide her grin and nodding as she did.

"Alright, well, give me my keys then." she waved her hand at him, gesturing for her messenger bag, "Right side pocket." she instructed as his hand moved around her bag. He found the right pocket and then her keys, handing them over to her.

Once inside her lobby, she glanced over to see that the elevator was out of order - of course, and then hobbled over to the stairs, ready to hop up them when Cap stopped her with another hand on her arm. She glanced over to him, noticing the semi-amused smile on his face at her actions.

"What?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"What floor do you live on?" he asked.

"The second." she answered, prompting his next question.

"How are you going to get up the stairs?" he asked, matching her expression. She made a face, looking between the stairs and him.

"I was prepared to hop." she answered with a shrug. He shook his head at her plan, laughing a bit. He gave her an amused smirk before stepping in front of her and patting his shoulder,

"Let's go." A small noise escaped from her at the sudden realization that he wanted her to climb onto his back so he could carry her up to her apartment.

"No, Cap, this is completely unprofessional." she shook her head, getting him to turn back around to look at her. He already knew what building she lived in, she was already letting him up to her apartment, she didn't need to be carried up there. That would be completely out of line.

"How else are you supposed to get up to your apartment? The elevator's out of order." he asked, starting to debate with her. She let out a deep sigh.

"I can hop." she shrugged as she maneuvered her crutches out from under her arms. He watched her for a moment, seeing how she tried and failed to get her balance. Before she went down, he quickly reached out to catch her, holding her up by her arms.

"Clearly, you can not." he raised his eyebrows at her and she rolled her eyes.

"Fine, but just know that I'm only agreeing to this because it's the only option." she pointed out, raising a finger as he turned around and helped her onto his back. She was grateful his back was to her; then he couldn't see how her face heated up with even more embarrassment. There had to be a daily limit of embarrassment per person, right?

Objectively, Q knew he was a muscular man. She had seen the footage of New York, knew how much he could lift from the files from the SSR and the tapes of the Howling Commandos, and saw first hand during his training sessions. The shirts he wore hid them well, but when he was in his running or workout gear...those muscles were exposed. They were the side effect of the serum, staying toned by his endless workouts. But feeling them was a different story. They were firm under her, keeping her in place on his back. She was certain that there was no way she was going to be able to get off of his back until he let her. But she felt safe.

When they got to her apartment, he gently set her down, letting her unlock the door and hobble inside. He followed her, shutting the door behind himself. As she lurched through her apartment on her crutches, she silently prayed that there was nothing embarrassing laying out or around that would discredit her in his eyes. Even with him standing in her apartment, she still wanted to keep some semblance of professionalism, but her will was dwindling by the second.

"Uh, you can just put that stuff wherever." she glanced over to him, seeing that he was still holding her bag and blazer. He nodded at her, placing her things on the breakfast bar by the door.

"Why don't you get settled on the couch." he suggested, "I'll get some ice for you." She nodded, unsure if she even had ice in the freezer, but still did as he suggested.

Propping her foot up on the coffee table, she set her crutches up against the couch and rolled her pant leg up to expose her ankle.

"Hey, Q." His voice got her attention, "All you have in here are frozen waffles, ice cream and a bottle of...tequila."

"Sounds like a party to me, Cap." she grinned at him from the couch, trying to be casual even though she was clocking every item that was around her open space floor plan. HGTV was wrong - open space floor plans were a nightmare; had unexpected guests? Expect them to be able to see all of your things at once.

He rolled his eyes at her and grabbed the frozen waffles. He walked over to her, sitting down on the couch next to her and taking the waffles out of the box so he could gently press one to her ankle.

"Do you need me to get you anything else?" he asked. She made a face and shook her head,

"No, I'm good." she gave him a grateful smile, "Thank you, Cap. You really didn't have to do all this." He returned the smile, patting her calf before answering,

"What are friends for, right?"

"Right." she answered with a smile. That was twice. By god, they were friends,

A few minutes of comfortable silence went by before he checked her ankle under the bandages, making sure the swelling was going down. It still hurt when she pressed her fingers against her skin, but not as much as it once did. The waffles worked as individual ice packs and she took over for him, holding the breakfast food against her ankle so he could be in charge of the television. It was still prime daytime television so there wasn't a lot of he found interesting.

"Why are there so many shows about judges?" he asked, flipping through the channels, "Or shows where people win things?" he asked, passing by Price Is Right.

"Because it's entertaining." she shrugged. He scoffed and shook his head, getting her to look at him, "I'll prove it to you. Go back a channel." she instructed so they were back on Price Is Right. He did as she told him to, settling back on the couch, "Okay, so the deal is, you have to guess how much those designer sunglasses are and if you're the closest bidder without going over, you get to move on." she quickly explained as the contestants started guessing.

"Oh, they can't be more than...thirty dollars." he said with a shrug. She laughed at him, getting him to look at her, "What?"

"Nothing, that's your bid." she put her hands up defensively, making a face before looking back at the screen, "I'm saying...six hundred dollars." He did a double take at her answer,

"Six hundred dollars?!" His eyebrows shot up, "Are you serious?"

"Just watch." she pointed back to the television where Drew Carey was reading out the actual retail price: six hundred and fifty dollars. Q let out a victory cheer as she looked over to him with a grin on her face.

"Well, that's just ridiculous." He shook his head, letting out a huff, but continued to watch the show. She explained to him all the different aspects: the other games, the prizes, the big wheel, the final round.

As the show went on, he was getting into it, shouting out different guesses to certain items and commenting on the other contestants guesses. She couldn't help but laugh at him, enjoying his reaction to the show more than the show itself. He jotted down a few things they saw in his notebook, putting question marks next to the prices; he was obviously surprised about how much some things could possibly cost.

"See? Entertaining, right?" she asked after the show ended. He nodded, going back to flipping through the channels, "There's plenty more too."

"Really?"

"So many." she rolled her eyes, knowing the obscene amount of game shows that were on television nowadays. He reached into his pocket to pull out his notebook, jotting down the phrase Game Shows before stuffing it back into his pocket.

"How's the ankle?" he asked, jerking his chin toward her waffle covered ankle.

"Uh, the same." she shrugged, "But I think the waffles are starting to melt." She clenched her teeth together, looking over to him with an exaggerated face. He gave a little laugh and nodded,

"Alright, I'm gonna head down to the deli and get some actual ice." he said, "And maybe some actual food too. All you have are Lucky Charms, soda and those fruit snacks." She gave him a lazy smile, not even trying to defend herself. "I'll be right back."

"Here, wait." She stopped him, getting to her feet and hopping on one foot to her bag. She pulled out her yellow wallet and went to get some cash out, only for him to stop her,

"No, no, you pay for everything when you're taking care of me." he pointed out, "Now that I'm taking care of you, I get to pay." She went to say that he wasn't taking care of her, only to stop herself; he kind of was. So she closed her wallet and her mouth, nodding at him. He gave her a quick smile before stepping over to the door, exiting her apartment.

After he left, she hopped over to the window by the fridge, knowing it looked out onto the street. She waited a few moments until she saw him walk out of the building, hands dipping into his hoodie pockets; he was still in his workout gear from his training session. He hadn't changed or even showered yet, completely disregarding his daily routine to help her and take care of her. She knew that what was happening was bordering, if not already, unprofessional, but for some reason she didn't care. Screw professionalism. He thought they were friends - he said it twice, and proved it by sticking by her side and taking care of her. A grateful feeling blossomed in her gut as she watched him walk down the street toward the deli.

In a few short hours, the tables had turned; instead of her spending her whole day with him, he was spending his whole day with her. And in a small way, he had taken over her role, while she had taken on his role. Sure they weren't going to talk about her deep dark secrets, but the parallel was still there. Curious to see how he was responding to it, she hopped back over to the breakfast bar, pulling out her laptop and booting it up. She managed to push herself up onto one of the bar chairs, getting weight off of her injured ankle as she downloaded whatever the FitBit had already recorded.

The data imported itself into her graphs and charts and a proud smile came over her face; things were looking up.


	17. drunk thoughts, sober words

His door was suddenly thrown open – slamming against the wall with a bang, followed by her voice which excitedly yelled out, "BAR TOUR!"

He looked over to see her standing in the doorway: a wide smile stretched across her face, arms raised up triumphantly, and holding a piece of paper. A laugh escaped from him as she shut the door behind her and walked over to where he was standing by the dining table. The paper in her hand was slapped down on the table, showing him what was written on it - or rather, mapped out on it.

"I worked on this for the past three days and I think I finally figured out the perfect, quintessential DC Bar Tour." she explained, looking over at him, "Plus, it makes a smiley face." she grinned at him and he smiled back at her.

The bar tour had been her idea. Somehow during one of their talks, he had mentioned the bar he and the rest of the Howling Commandos had gone to. She took that as an opportunity to schedule a night for them to go out to some of the bars in DC. He wasn't complaining; he liked drinking, but the serum caused him not to be affected by alcohol in the same way he once was. Not that he ever drank before the serum - one drink and he would be on the floor or puking in the alley as Bucky carried him home. It would be nice to go out with Q and not have to worry about any of that happening.

"Okay, come on, get ready. We should get going before the bars get too busy." she waved her hands at him, urging him to move. His brow furrowed and he glanced down at his clothes before looking back at her,

"I am ready." he answered her. She stared at him for a moment before a barely concealed laugh came out of her. She clasped her hands over her mouth and stuffed it back down, but he still noticed how her eyes seemed to light up a bit. Then she dropped her hand from her mouth and shook her head,

"No, no, you're not wearing that." she continued to shake her head.

"What's wrong with it?" he asked, looking back down at his outfit to make sure there weren't any stains or any holes.

"You have to change." she responded, not actually giving him an answer.

"Why? Why don't you have to change?" he asked, gesturing to her outfit.

It was different than her usual business suit. Sure, she had her usual button up shirt, but it was half tucked into the front of her black tight pants - the back hanging out and the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. A pair of white Converse sneakers were on her feet and she had her hair up in a messy bun, strands already falling out around her face. He wasn't sure if that was on purpose or not.

She didn't answer him just put her hands on his shoulders and turned him around, pushing him gently toward his bedroom.

"You look like my dad." she explained, clearly that was a bad thing.

"I'm old enough to be your dad." he quipped back as he looked over his shoulder at her.

"You're old enough to be my grandpa." she corrected him, giving him a look and crossing her arms over her chest, "Go change. And no plaid!" she held up a finger, making a point. He sighed, but did as she asked.

In his bedroom, he shut the door with one hand and unbuttoned his plaid shirt with the other. Pulling it off, he hung it back up in his closet and swiped through the rest of the shirts that were hanging up. The ones he wore regularly were in the center, but there were a lot of others on each end that he hadn't touched. Q had filled up his closet for every occasion, but he stuck with what he knew. Back in his day, it was a lot of button ups and plaid with slacks and a pair of nice shoes. These days, he saw a lot of men wearing tees and jeans, which weren't uncommon back in his day, but were more for those working in the factories. Still, he figured he might as well dress as the rest did, so he grabbed a plain white tee and a pair of dark wash jeans with a pair of boots. He pulled on his outfit and then opened his bedroom door, seeing her sitting on the arm of his couch, waiting for him.

"Much better." she stressed, getting up from her seat. She stepped over to him, letting her eyes rake over him and taking in the outfit he had picked out for himself. When she reached out toward his face, he went to dodge her - not knowing what she was going to do. She stopped her motion, catching his eye and giving him an incredulous look,

"Let me fix your hair." she explained what she was doing as she reached out again. Her fingers quickly carded through his hair, messing up how he had combed it over earlier. She pulled her hand back and he had to internally fight the urge not to bring his hand up to fix it.

"There." she stepped back from him, "Perfect." she gave him a grin before spinning around, "Let's go! Our Uber is waiting." He knew that term; she had taught it to him earlier in the week - it was another name for a cab. Something about how they could order it to pick them up at a specific time instead of hailing one down. He understood that it would be easier, but it still confused him a little bit.

As she grabbed her bag - which wasn't her normal messenger bag, but a smaller over the shoulder bag that was big enough to fit her yellow wallet, he made sure he had his keys and phone in case SHIELD needed him on another operation. There had only been one other since and he had done everything Rumlow had asked of him without question. He hoped that once he became more comfortable with Rumlow and showed that he was able to follow orders, that he would be able to start leading the operations. He had brought up his hope to Q and she wrote it down, reminding him to mention it at their meeting with Fury in the next week, which he would.

Following her out of his apartment, he glanced over his shoulder at her as he locked his door. She was rolling back on her heels, obviously getting a little impatient since they were running late - but she was one who made him change so it was technically her fault. He locked his apartment and stepped up next to her, looking down at her ankle.

"How's the ankle?" he asked, noticing that she didn't have it wrapped anymore, but she still took it easy on the stairs - favoring her left foot. It had been four days since she had sprained it during her impromptu sparring session with Natasha. During the session, he had been impressed with how she did considering he never saw her do any physical activity. And because of that, he figured she would be at risk for hurting herself, but he didn't think it would actually happen.

"Oh, fine." she shrugged off his question, "Just can't put too much weight on it, but the swelling's gone down."

"Good." He nodded at her, relieved that she wasn't just faking it for his sake; he would've made them stay in if her ankle was still really bothering her.

The first bar they were going to was already in the driver's GPS so after greeting them, the driver headed for their destination. He didn't say anything else, but Steve watched the screen of the phone and the small icon that represented the car they were in, wanting to make sure the driver didn't try anything during the ride. Meanwhile, she leaned back in her seat and opened up her map, then looked over at him.

"So," she started, getting his attention, "Here's the plan. We're gonna start with the furthest bar, then walk back and end by your apartment so we don't have to spend a lot of money on rides." He nodded at her, understanding her thought process and she continued, "We'll get one drink at every bar. Some of the bars have special drinks so those will be what we get there, but others, beer is fine." So they would be drinking about seven drinks throughout the night. He knew he could handle it but he was a little wary about her. They had never drank together before, so he wasn't sure what her tolerance was. Hopefully she knew her limits.

She flipped over her map to show him the list of speciality drinks some of the bars had, "For every drink, you have to tell a fun fact about yourself, alright?"

"You already know everything about me, Q." he responded, getting her to roll her eyes.

"I highly doubt that." she scoffed, getting him to smirk at her, "Sound good?" she asked, raising her eyebrows at him.

"Sure you'll be able to keep up?" he asked, genuinely curious, but of course, she took it as a challenge.

"I'm positive, Cap." she nodded firmly as the car slowed down. He looked out the window to see they had arrived at the first bar: the first eye of the smiley face on Q's map, "Let's go." she grinned at him before pushing out of the car.

Stepping into the bar behind her, his senses were suddenly assaulted. The scent of beer and sweat mixed together to create a terrible smell. There were barely any lights and the ones that were on, were dim and didn't provide much to see by. The air was thick and hot with the amount of people in the room. People milled around, standing in bigger groups and not moving until forced to. Some song was blasting over the speakers, making it hard to hear anything else. His eyes flicked around, taking in everything at once while trying to assess his situation.

Q didn't seem surprised or bothered by the environment. She took charge, moving through the sea of people to the bar and he followed behind her. They were both tall enough to see over most of the people, but where she was skinny enough to slip through the small spaces left by people, he had to force himself through.

"Hey, why don't you go get us a table and I'll get the drinks!" she shouted out, leaning close to him so he could hear her. He nodded, eyes shifting around the bar as he tried to find an open table or some form of seating. Her hand rested on his bicep, making him look back at her, "Are you okay?" she asked, a little concerned. He nodded again,

"Just getting used to it!" he raised his voice a bit so she could hear him over the music. She nodded at him and then gave him a reassuring smile,

"It's just a bar!" He took in a deep breath; she was right, it was just a bar. They weren't really any different than they were back in his day. It was just overwhelming to be back in a similar place after such a long time.

Letting her get the drinks, he made his way through the crowd, spotting a high top table with two empty chairs. He sat down in one of them, surveying the bar as he waited for her. From his position, he noticed that it wasn't actually as crowded as he originally thought. The people just seemed to congregate at the entrance and at the bar - easier for getting out and getting more drinks.

"Let the bar tour begin!" Q cheered out as she placed the drinks down on the table. There were two plastic cups filled with some sort of blue liquid and a can was sticking out of each of them, "Cap! Give me a fact!" she gestured to him, reminding him of her rule for the night. He took in a breath, thinking for a moment. He wanted something that wasn't too deep or would open up a conversation; he just wanted to enjoy his night without any of their serious talks.

"I can't get drunk." he settled on with a grin. He hadn't told her that yet, not wanting to ruin her fun. Her eyebrows rose a bit and then once she thought about it, she made a face, nodding at it.

"Yeah, that seems plausible." she responded, "Because of the serum, right?" He nodded, remembering how hard he tried after what happened on the train. That's when he found out that the super soldier serum had enhanced his metabolism as well, making it so he couldn't get drunk.

"Your turn." he pulled himself from his thoughts, not wanting to think about those things so early in the night.

"I can get drunk." she grinned at him as she picked up her plastic cup and took a sip of it. He laughed and shook his head at her, indicating that it wasn't good enough. So she continued with, "I was unofficially voted Best Beer Pong partner in my high school."

"Unofficially?" he asked, brow furrowing a bit. She nodded, then gave a shrug as she grinned at him,

"Well, they couldn't exactly print it in the yearbook." He tilted his head at her, realizing that she said high school, which meant she was underage. Not that he had any real issue with that; he and Bucky started drinking when they were fifteen - well, Bucky did. There were no real laws that stated a legal age for when people could start drinking. But that was a different time.

"What's this?" he moved on, picking up the plastic cup she had set in front of him.

"A trashcan!" she grinned at him, "It's got a shot of vodka, white rum, gin, triple sec, and blue curacao."

"And what's this?" he asked, tapping the can before turning it over so he could read the label. Red Bull. It looked familiar. He had seen a few empty cans of it on Dawson's table in his lab.

"An energy drink." she explained with a shrug before lifting up her cup and taking a sip. He followed suit, a bit hesitant as to trying something called a trashcan. The taste of sugar was overwhelming, so much so that he could barely taste the alcohol.

"Thoughts?" she asked, eyebrows raising.

"Very sugary." he matched her expression with a nod, "I'm more of a beer or whiskey guy." she nodded at him and gave him a sympathetic smile.

"I can go get you a beer." she offered, trying to make up for her mistake. He knew she wanted the bar tour to be fun and for him to enjoy himself, so he felt bad going against her plan that she had so carefully researched and crafted.

"No, it's okay, I'll stick with this for now." he assured her. She hesitated for a moment before nodding and accepting his response.

The two of them finished their drinks with casual conversation. Even though the alcohol had no affect on him, he couldn't really tell if it was affecting her yet. She seemed herself, rolling her eyes at his lame jokes or teasing him about certain things he said, but she just seemed a little bit happier. They talked easily, starting with a light conversation about his day and what he had gotten up to after his session with Natasha. Obviously, the bar tour was in place of their evening talk, but there was no sign of her notepad or recording device. It was just the two of them hanging out like friends.

The second bar was a few blocks away from the first and made the second eye. It wasn't as crowded as the first and was a different environment. Where the first bar was smaller and darker, the second bar was much more open and had an area where people could sit outside and play games or relax on one of the lounge chairs. He snagged two while she got their drinks - coming back with a beer for him and the speciality drink for her. She explained that if he didn't like the first drink they had, he surely wasn't going to like the second. He took a sip of hers, and she was right - it was still too sugary for him. Before their second drink, he gave her another fact about himself in exchange for one about her.

As she sipped on her second drink, he watched as she started to relax. She became quiet, watching the people around them playing cornhole or something with giant blocks that were stacked on top of each other. There wasn't much, if any, conversation between the two and he figured if this was how she was when she drank, he could get used to this Q.

The beer she had gotten him tasted different than what he had way back when. It wasn't as watered down and had a different flavor than what he was used to. During the war, the bar served beer that was very low in alcohol and more of a lighter color. The beer she had given him was much darker and had a higher alcohol content than back then.

Before the war, Bucky would have a bottle of whiskey in a paper bag, sneaking it into movie theaters or on the trains. It wasn't an often occurrence, just whenever they did something special. Steve would barely be able to get down one sip from the bottle of whiskey, feeling it burn in his throat before sliding down. It became easier, after what happened that day on the train, he had gotten used to the taste - trying so hard to use it as a way to forget.

Before he spiraled back down into the dark places of his mind, he was able to pull himself out of it by checking in on Q. She had been awfully quiet for a long time now, so long that he was worried she had fallen asleep. Not that it was late or anything, but he had never seen her this quiet before. A glance over to her proved that she was still awake, nursing her drink as her eyes slowly took in what was happening. She was slouched down in her chair, the glass resting on her chest in both of her hands.

The sight of her made him laugh a bit; she had never looked so blissed out before. Usually she was always at alert, always serious and always sitting up straight. At his laughter, her head lolled over to look at him, a lazy smile coming over her face as she picked up her drink with both hands and brought it to her mouth. He watched her glug down the rest of her drink before pushing herself up by her elbows and making eye contact with him,

"Ready for bar three?" she asked, eyebrows raising.

Bar three made him long for bar two. He didn't mind the atmosphere; the two of them sat in a corner booth with him taking up the back while she took up the side next to him. But her third drink seemed to ignite a fire in her - she was loud and rowdy and very excited about everything.

"You never gave me a fact!" she said suddenly, slamming her half empty glass down with a thud. Her eyes were big and bright as she leaned forward, "Give me a fact!" she reached for his drink, taking it away from him and indicating that he wasn't going to get it back until he did what she said - or yelled.

"In between USO shows, I would doodle things in my journal." he answered. Her jaw dropped open and she took in a gasp.

"You can draw?" she asked as he took back his beer. He liked this one too, it was much denser than the last one. He nodded his head, answering her question and her face split into a wide grin.

"Draw me!" she cried out, "Oh my God, Cap, draw me!" she started to slam her fists on the table chanting, "Draw me! Draw me! Draw me!" He rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he looked away from her.

"I don't have anything to draw on." he came up with excuse, but she ignored him, grabbing one of the napkins that were in the center of the table. She shoved one in his face, waving it around until he took it, "I need something to draw with." he emphasized. She paused for a moment, thinking to herself before straightening up and brightening.

"I have a pen!" she exclaimed excitedly, going into her bag. She rummaged around for a moment before triumphantly pulling out a pen with a laugh, "Here! Draw me!" she started to bang her fists on the table again until he put his hands over hers, stopping the sound; she was gaining the attention of other bar patrons which was the last thing he wanted. She grinned at him, bouncing a little in her seat and he couldn't help but laugh at her.

"Alright, okay." he gave in with a slight smile. Sitting back in the booth, he picked up her pen and quickly drew a stick figure on the napkin, giving her two strands of hair and a triangle for a dress. Then he slid it over to her, "There." he grinned at her, watching as she leaned over to look at it. Immediately, she gave him an unamused look. She grabbed the paper, crumpled it up with one hand as she smacked his arm with the other,

"That's not what I meant and you know it, Cap!" she scolded, very offended by his little prank, "Draw me like you mean it." she grumbled seriously, giving him a side eye as he picked up another small napkin. He laughed to himself, glancing over at her as she used both hands to bring her glass to her mouth again.

Quickly, he sketched out her face shape, not paying too much attention to the details or how she watched him curiously. She babbled while he doodled on the napkin, telling him a fact about herself - how she couldn't draw people or fruit, but she could trace really well. Which then turned into a story about how she had to trace blueprints onto parchment paper for something that she didn't explain. He figured it was probably SHIELD related though. He listened as he added her hair, noting that for some, three facts was probably nothing when getting to know someone. But for her and him, it was the most he had ever heard her say about herself.

When he was finished, he slid the napkin over to her and a part of him was actually kind of nervous for her response. He never really showed anyone his art; most of them were doodles of what he thought of himself or his situation or surroundings. He had never been asked to draw something or someone specifically until Q practically demanded him to. As soon as she picked up the napkin, she let out a small gasp and he looked over to see that there was a big smile on her face. She made eye contact with him, pressing the napkin to her chest,

"It's perfect. I'm keeping it forever, Cap." she said proudly. He felt his face heat up a bit at her compliment, but she didn't notice, so he let out a slight laugh to play it off. It took him all about three minutes, but she was acting like it was a piece of modern art that had taken him ages to complete.

Following her map, they ended up at bar four several minutes after finishing their drinks at bar three. Another beer for him and also one for her - since there was no speciality drink. Then he gave her a fact as they sat at the end of the bar, telling her about how when he first started out, he used to write his USO lines on the back of his shield. This prompted her to immediately tell him that she knew all of the words to the Star Spangled Man With a Plan song - including the dance.

"No, you don't." he couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head a bit as she gulped down her drink. Her beer was a lighter color than his and tasted a bit like what he was used to during the war. He still stuck with the better, more flavorful beer she had gotten him.

"I do, I really do." she bobbed her head in a nod. She seemed to have calmed down a bit from the third bar. He figured it was the walk over to the fourth bar that gave her time to clear her head. He was wrong.

"What? Don't believe me?" she asked as he laughed again at the thought of her knowing all the words. It had been such a long time since those shows, he thought that people forgot about it. He didn't expect for anyone, let alone Q, to know it. He opened his mouth to respond, but she barreled over him, "Do you want me to prove it to ya or something? Cause I'll do it. I swear to God, Cap, I'll do it right here." He went to tell her that she didn't have to prove it, but she didn't let him. Instead, she got off of her barstool and started marching in place, a serious look on her face as she took a second before shouting out the beginning lines of the song.

Before she could get any further, he quickly moved to clap his hand over her mouth, effectively stopping her performance. She gave him a wide eyed look, unsure as to why he had stopped her and also had his hand over her mouth,

"I believe you." he assured her, not wanting to cause a scene. Even if the bar was dark and there weren't a lot of people around, he didn't want people hearing her sing, ask themselves why and then realize that Steve was who he was. When she realized he wasn't going to let her prove it, she slumped down dejectedly, glancing around the bar for a moment before pulling her head back from his hand,

"Ooo darts!" she shimmied her shoulders before glancing back at him, "Wanna play? I'm like really good at darts." She didn't let him answer, reaching around him to grab her beer in one hand and his in the other before hurrying over to the dartboard and setting their glasses on the high top table. He had no choice but to follow.

"Ready to get your ass whooped, Cap?" she goaded him with a grin, handing him three darts and bouncing from foot to foot, "Cause I'm gonna whoop your ass." He raised his eyebrows at her. He wasn't sure how he felt about this Q he was dealing with. She was extremely confident and ready to prove anyone wrong at anything and everything.

"Is that so?" he asked back, getting her to nod quickly.

"Oooooh yeah." she leaned from side to side, trying to make it look like she was gearing up to win, but honestly she just looked ridiculous. He pulled down the corners of his mouth, nodding a bit as he twisted the darts in his fingers.

"Then go ahead, show me what you got, Q." he gestured to the dartboard. "Ladies first." he continued and she grinned at him.

"Age before beauty." she volleyed back, very proud of herself as he rolled his eyes. He sighed at her childish behavior, but stepped up to the line and readied himself. The dart hit the bullseye and he glanced over to see her reaction. She looked unimpressed, tongue clicking against her cheek as she stepped up next to him,

"That was luck." she nodded to herself, "But luck doesn't beat skill." she confidently grinned at him before focusing back on the board.

Then she threw the dart, hard and at the wrong angle which sent it flying and bouncing against the wall. A bubble of laughter ripped through him as he doubled over, reacting to her terrible throw. He didn't mean to laugh, but God, she seemed so sure of herself that it was actually kind of hilarious that she missed so spectacularly.

"Shut up." she shoved him as she walked by him, "We're going to bar five."

Bar five was where Q decided she needed food. Actually, where she demanded that she needed food. There was a point, when they were waiting for the food, where he was actually scared she was going to go back into the kitchen and make it herself. She was rather impatient and complained the whole time until her tray - a full cookie sheet sized tray, of cheese fries was slid in front of them. The fries didn't just have cheese on them: there was bacon and ranch dressing and green flakes that were supposed to be for presentation, but she immediately blew them off because they reminded her of vegetables. When he reached for a fry, she quickly slapped his hand away, pairing her action with a warning look.

"If you wanted some, you should've ordered your own." she sassed him, matter of factly. His eyebrows rose at her comment,

"I didn't realize you were so hangry." he replied. She stared at him for a moment, chewing thoughtfully before nodding to herself,

"I'm happy you used that term I taught you, but I'm not happy you used it against me." she responded, waving a fry at him before shoving it into her mouth in an unladylike fashion.

When she went to the bathroom, he did manage to steal a few of her fries and thankfully, she didn't notice; she was too caught up in finishing her family sized portion of cheese fries. He watched her, amazed by how much she could put away without even hesitating. Bucky used to be able to do that, eat enough for the both of them and then some. Back then, Steve couldn't, but now, he was sure he would be able to keep up with her; his metabolism was so much faster than it was before.

Bar six was where it all started to go downhill. Q was drunk. He knew that after they hit bar three, but he didn't realize just how drunk she was until she said her fact. They were sitting in another booth, both of them having switched to beer at this point, and her chin was resting on her hands which were on the table. He was waiting for her to tell him her fact and she let out a sigh before responding,

"I'm sleeping with Rumlow." Then she paused before her eyes went wide and she sat up straight, "Fuck, I wasn't supposed to tell you that. Oh fuck, that's not my fact, nope, no. Pretend you didn't hear anything, Cap." But he had heard it and she realized that, slumping back down, "Eh, fuck it, whatever." she mumbled out, sounding disappointed in herself.

"So sleeping together as in…?" he wanted to clarify, but he didn't want to say the word. He didn't want to assume; there were so many terms for having sex and probably more than he knew. Still, she got what he was saying and bobbed her head in a nod,

"Yup, we are having sex!" she announced with a slap of her hand against the table.

"I didn't know you two were together." he continued with a slight shake of his head.

Whenever Rumlow and her interacted in the Triskelion, well, they didn't. He didn't even realize they knew each other, let alone were in a romantic relationship. Showed how much he was paying attention. Clearly, there were very defined lines that separated their personal lives from professional lives. It made sense; Q did that on her own already, it obviously was going to extend into her romantic life, especially when she was with someone from her professional life.

"Ha! No, no, no, no, no." she shot him down quickly, "We're not together. I would never - no, no, it's just sex." she explained, giving him a serious look. His eyebrows furrowed as he sat back in the booth, a little confused by the relationship the two had. She sensed his confusion and took in a deep breath before gathering her hair up and tying it on top of her head (it had come down during bar four).

"We are just having a no strings attached, co-workers with benefits, sex-ationship." she explained, "So he comes over, we have sex, and then he leaves." He shook his head, not liking how this conversation was going. At first, he felt bad for every mean thought he had about Rumlow - not wanting to insult her boyfriend, but after finding out that he was just using Q for sex...well, now he really didn't like him.

"You deserve better." he found himself saying, not even knowing where it came from, but it was true. She let out a scoff and rolled her eyes, aggressively sitting back in her booth, "No, I'm serious, Q." he leaned forward, deciding to go with it; she needed to understand that Rumlow wasn't someone she should be with, "You deserve someone who cares about you and supports you. Someone who's your partner and equal. Not just some guy who comes over to have sex with you and then leaves."

"For the record, I am in full control of this sex-ationship." she started, raising up a finger at him, "He comes over when I call." she paused, "And honestly, I don't deserve any of that." she said seriously, referring back to what he had said to her moments before. He looked at her seriously, holding eye contact with her. Then he took in a breath and leaned back in the booth,

"Then you at least deserve to sleep with a better guy than that asshole." he said with a shrug. She let out another scoff and rolled her eyes, looking away from him as her finger tapped against her glass.

"I'm sure people had casual sex back in your day, Cap." she moved on, ignoring his comment.

"Yeah, I'm sure they did, but I wasn't one of them." he admitted with a slight shake of his head. She gasped at him, pressing her hand to her chest, like she was both offended and felt bad for him,

"Cap! That breaks my heart! You are a good looking man, a hot piece of ass! Sorry, unprofessional." she cut herself off, waving her hand in the air before looking at him for a moment, "You could pull." she said decidedly, bobbing her head in a nod.

"I could pull?" he asked, not understanding the term.

"The ladies!" she exclaimed, reaching out to shake his arm, "Or the guys!" she added on, trying not to assume, "Come on, you could totally get any gal or guy in here." she surveyed the bar and he was quickly becoming uncomfortable. He didn't want to have to interact with anyone else in the bar.

"No, no, it's ok." he played it off with a laugh. She glanced over to him and then sighed, taking her hand off of his arm to go pick up her drink again.

"Alright, ok, just know that you're a very hot dude, who should have no problem getting some on a late Friday night like tonight." she said pointedly before dipping her chin down, "Sorry, unprofessional." He laughed a little, trying to play off what she was saying, even though he was a little embarrassed by it, "You know what they say: drunk thoughts, sober words." she paused, brow furrowing, "No, that's not it…" she trailed off, trying to remember the correct version, but then she picked up her glass and finished her drink, no longer concerned with it. Then, she slammed her glass down with a thud and looked over to him,

"I need to pee! But then! Then it's bar seven!" she cheered out, waving the map in his face. He laughed at her, swatting the paper away from his face so she would drop it as she moved out of the booth.

She stumbled a bit as she started walking to the bathroom, but didn't fall, holding onto another booth or a person as she made her way to the ladies' room. He watched her until the door swung shut then looked into his beer. He was as sober as he was when the night began. And for the past six hours, she had got increasingly more drunk. She had managed to hold her own - walking was a little difficult, yes, but she hadn't done anything concerning.

In a few minutes, he would regret that thought.

It had been a while since she stumbled off to the bathroom. Long enough to worry him. Wanting to make sure she was ok, he moved out of the booth and through the crowd to the bathroom. He knocked on the ladies' room door, not wanting to open it and walk in on her. There was no response. Glancing around himself, he spotted a young woman talking with her friends a few feet away.

"Excuse me." he interrupted their conversation and got their attention, "My friend went into the bathroom about ten minutes ago and she hasn't come out yet. Do you mind checking and seeing if she's alright in there?" he asked politely. The young woman paused for a moment before nodding, sensing his concern. He watched as she stepped into the bathroom, only to come out a few seconds later,

"There's no one in there, dude." she shook her head and Steve immediately began to panic. He scanned the bar again, quickly sweeping over the patrons before he came to the conclusion that Q was gone.

Hurrying out of the bar, he stepped out onto the sidewalk, looking down both ends of the street before deciding toward the next bar. He figured that's probably where she was headed and she just forgot about him. Before he could get very far, though, he heard her voice coming from the alley next to the bar. She didn't sound like she was in danger, but he still picked up his pace, jogging down the alley and finding her sitting on the edge of a dumpster, talking to herself.

"Cap!" she gasped excitedly, when she spotted him, "You found me!"

"How'd you get out here?" he asked, glancing around himself.

"Through the window." she replied like it was obvious. She pointed and he followed her finger, seeing that there was in fact a window from the ladies' room that led to where she was sitting, "Are you ready for bar seven?!" Her eyes went wide and a grin broke out across her face.

"Let's get you down from there first." he ignored her question, knowing he better get her home instead of to bar seven. He picked her up, lifting her off of the dumpster as she giggled at him,

"Wow, you're strong. So strong." she squeezed his bicep as he set her down on the ground. She studied his bicep for a moment, squeezing it every other second before she made eye contact with him, "I'll race ya to bar seven!" she cried out before taking off down the alley to the sidewalk. He groaned, hating himself for even letting go of her.

Luckily, he was able to easily catch up to her. The alcohol had given her a little speed advantage, but she didn't get very far; she tired out very quickly. He found her slumped against a mailbox, taking in deep breaths in an effort to calm herself down.

"I'm so tired." she whined, resting her head against the mailbox. He laughed at her, reaching down to help her to her feet. She swayed a bit as she stood up and whined again, clearly not a fan of having to support herself.

"Here," he turned around and bent his knees a bit, "Get on my back. I'll carry you." he looked over his shoulder to see that she had brightened at the offer and quickly scrambled onto his back, making him do most of the work to make sure she was on properly.

"Bar seven!" she cheered loudly, almost falling off of his back as she leaned away from him. He steadied her, but didn't agree, already set on taking her home. She needed water and to sleep it off.

She didn't notice they were going the wrong way for a few minutes, quietly hanging off his back as he walked toward her apartment. She was light enough that carrying her was really no hard task for him. And they weren't even that far from her apartment to begin with - having almost completed the smiley face her map made.

"Hey!" she shouted suddenly, picking her head up from where it rested on his shoulder, "Where are we going?!"

"To the bar. It's just a shortcut." he lied, hopings he would fall for it. She didn't.

"No, no no! We're going back to my apartment!"

"Only because I have to charge my phone." he continued with his lie.

"Did you use up all the battery playing Candy Crush again?" she asked, leaning in close to his ear, "You gotta stop doing that, man!" she pulled her head back with a dramatic sigh. Then she rested her chin on his shoulder, "You know it makes a smiley face, right? We gotta finish the smiley face, Cap." He hummed in agreement, not wanting to say anything that could be used against him when he dumped her into bed in a few minutes.

She quieted for a moment, carding her fingers through his hair as she played with it, "So soft." He heard her whisper appreciatively. Then she giggled to herself, "It's so much better up here. I mean, I'm tall, but I just feel taller. You know? No wonder you're so confident."

"Far from it." he let out a humorless laugh.

"Well, you should be." she said matter of factly, "And you will be." she nodded, "As long as you believe in yourself…" Her hand came around his shoulder, moving down to tap at his chest, "Right here. Believe in yourself right there."

"I'll try to remember that." he sighed out, getting her to pat his chest firmly.

"Good, good, that's good, Cap." she paused for a moment before pulling herself forward so she could lean around him, her face appearing in his peripheral, "Are you really not drunk?" she asked curiously.

"Nope."

"Not even a little tipsy?" Her eyebrows rose.

"Nope." he answered truthfully, being able to see how her eyes went wide in response.

"That's terrible!" she cried out, obviously feeling bad for him. Her arms tightened around his shoulders, like she was trying to give him a hug, "I'm soooooooo soooorrrryyy, Cap!" He laughed a little at how upset she sounded, but her sadness quickly turned serious, "Cap, put me down." she said, no traces of the whine that had been present moments before.

"What?" He stopped walking - he could see her apartment steps from where they stood, but she smacked his shoulder,

"Put me down right now!" she sounded alarmed, enough for him to release her legs and let her slide down his body. He turned to check on her, right as she doubled over and vomited all over his boots.

There was a beat of silence as they both stood there before she stood up straight and let out a sigh,

"Well, I thought I'd embarrassed myself enough, but clearly I had to step it up." she said disappointedly. Steve didn't know what to do, or say, he just stared at the vomit on his boots. Everything she had drank and eaten had come up and was now splattered all over his boots. It was disgusting and wet and his stomach rolled the longer he looked at it.

"It's okay." he forced himself to say, not wanting her to feel bad for what she did.

"Oh my God! No! It's not!" she cried out, flinging her hand toward his boots and then looking at him, "I just threw up on you!" she yelled out before letting out a groan and shoving past him. She swayed as she tried to stomp, running into a parking meter or a wall. At least she was walking toward her apartment. He caught up with her, stepping in front of her to stop her.

"It's okay, Q, really." She looked like she was about to cry - arms crossed over her chest, shoulders hunched and clearly feeling terrible about what she had done, "But now I really do need to go back to your apartment." He gave her a little grin, trying to make her laugh. She did, but it was sad and self-deprecating as she rolled her eyes. Then she crumbled up the map in her hand,

"I guess we're done with this." she sighed out before stumbling past him.

"We had a good run." he offered helpfully.

"We didn't even complete the smiley face!" she cried out, almost crying again.

"It's okay!" he assured her, reaching out to catch her from tripping over her own two feet again. She giggled as he pulled her upright, mind already moving on,

"God, you're so strong." she laughed out.

"Science is a great thing." he sighed, making her roll her eyes,

"You aren't great cause of science. You're great cause of what's in here." Her finger poked against his chest again, followed by a little noise from her. Then she grinned at him and spun around, realizing they were at her apartment, "My home!" She yelled out, throwing her arms wide. He laughed as she crawled on her hands and feet up the front stairs to the door, then jiggled the knob, trying to open it without unlocking it first.

"Keys." he reminded her, "In your purse." she did as he told her, rummaging through her purse before triumphantly pulling out her keys, a bright smile on her face.

To avoid further injury, he tried to carry her up the stairs to her apartment, but she was adamant about doing it herself. His shoes squelched behind her the whole time as he followed her, keeping close in case she fell.

"Are you staring at my ass?" she glanced over her shoulder at him, a smirk on her face.

"No, ma'am." he answered with a shake of his head. He really wasn't - he was looking at her feet to make sure she didn't miss a step.

"Well, why not?" she asked before backtracking, "Fuck, sorry, that was unprofessional." He smiled to himself as they got to the top of the stairs, following her into her apartment.

Once in her apartment, Steve let Q wander around, talking to herself as he slipped off his boots and carefully put them in her trash can. He would have to take the trash out when he left so the smell wouldn't linger. After getting rid of his boots, he filled up a glass with water before he stepped over to where she was sprawled out on the couch.

"Hey, Q, drink this and then let's get you into bed." he held out the glass of water to her and she took with a quick nod. She held the glass with both hands, taking a huge gulp and then holding it in her mouth, her face going sour. She stared at him for a moment before letting it dribble back out into the glass,

"Is this water?" she asked, looking into the glass disgustedly, then looking at him, "I don't want this." she handed it back to him, sounding like a child. He sighed, figuring he should at least get her into a pair of pajamas and into bed. He took the glass from her, going into her bedroom to set it on the nightstand before turning to her dresser.

There was a moment of hesitation before he opened one of her dresser drawers; this was not just toeing the line she had placed, but hurdling over it. He knew how much she valued keeping her personal and professional life separate and he didn't want to betray her trust. Arguing with himself for a moment, he decided to just open the drawer; he was doing what a friend would do for another friend.

Somehow, he managed to guess which drawer held her pajamas on the first try. He grabbed the first things he saw: a pair of shorts and a t-shirt that had a logo on it for the Bronx Zoo. With the items in his hand, he went back out to the front room to see that she was no longer on the couch. Sighing, he glanced around the apartment, hoping she hadn't left and wandered off.

She didn't. Instead, she was sitting on the floor of her kitchen, eating Lucky Charms out of the box. There was a small pile of the cereal next to her; clearly she was only eating the marshmallows. He crouched down in front of her, getting her to give him a big smile and hold the box out to him,

"Want some?" she asked, eyebrows raising.

"I'm good. Come on, let's get you into bed." he gestured to her with the pajamas, "I found your pajamas." She gave a snort and rolled her eyes,

"I don't wear pajamas." she said as if he should already know that, "Cause I sleep naaaaakkkkeeedd." He didn't know whether to laugh or be embarrassed, but he knew that she was going to be very embarrassed the next day, when she remembered what she said to him. He pulled her to her feet, getting her to comment on his strength yet again.

In her bedroom, he placed her pajamas on the bed before turning back to her, ready to give her some privacy to get changed. But she was already one step ahead of him - having taken her shirt off and standing in front of him in her bra. His face heated up and he quickly spun back around, hearing her laugh at his response,

"It's just a bra, it's not gonna hurt you." she said, still amused by his reaction.

"It's called manners, Q." he responded.

"It's called take a chill pill." she huffed out, making him roll his eyes and toss back her pajamas at her. His hands settled at his hips as he waited for her to dress herself. She was quiet for a minute, enough to make him think she was dressed, but he wanted to make sure.

"Do you have your pajamas on yet?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." she sounded annoyed so he figured he was in the clear. He turned around, only to find Q standing there with her shorts on, but still in her bra, looking proud of herself.

"Ha!" she laughed at him as he quickly spun back around, "You fell for it!" He let out a disappointed sigh as she laughed to herself.

Then she walked past him, shirt on, and collapsed into bed. He watched her roll around in bed for a moment, getting herself comfortable. She gave him a lazy smile, pulling the covers up over herself.

"Sleep well, Q." he gave her a quick smile, grateful that she was finally in bed. He went to leave, but she stopped him,

"Cap?" He glanced over his shoulder to see her looking at him, a bit worried, "Are you mad at me?" she asked, voice small. His brow furrowed and she continued, sitting up in her bed, "Are you mad at me for throwing up on your boots and then tricking you into seeing my bra?" It was such a ridiculous question, but she looked extremely worried about his answer.

"No, I'm not." he shook his head, stepping over to the bed. She sniffed, eyes filling with tears as she fell back against the pillows. Oh God, she was really upset about it.

"Are you sure? Please don't be mad at me." she sounded upset, like she truly thought he was mad at her. He knelt down next to the bed so they were eye level,

"Q, I promise you, I'm not mad at you." She eyed him for a long moment, a tear rolling out of her eye and down her cheek. He took in a breath, hating that she was crying and wanting to assure her that he really wasn't mad because he wasn't, but in her current state, she couldn't realize that.

"I'm not mad." he said seriously, staring at her and hoping it would help prove it to her.

"...Okay." she whispered out after a moment. Then she took in a deep breath, "Did you have fun tonight?" she asked, looking hopeful.

"I did." he answered truthfully, "A lot more fun than I've had in a while." She grinned at him proudly, shimmying a bit in her bed before quickly turning serious,

"Was this your first night out since 1945?" she asked.

"...No." he made a face, trying to play it off, even though it was. She gasped at him, eyes going wide,

"Oh my God, Cap! It totally was!" she grinned at him again then reached out to pat his cheek, "I'm glad you had fun then." He laughed a little at her motion, watching as she pulled her hand back and reached for his. He gave it to her, wondering what she was going to do, but she just held it.

Steve shifted down so he was sitting on his butt next to her bed, not letting go of her hand. They fell quiet for a few minutes and when he looked back at her, he saw that she had fallen asleep. He gently drew his hand from hers, careful not to wake her, before getting to his feet and quietly walking out of her bedroom.

A small weight lifted from his shoulders as he shut the bedroom door behind him. The night was over. They may not have made it to all seven bars, but trying to wrangle her home and in bed was enough for him to be grateful they hadn't made it to the seventh bar. He had never seen that many different versions of Q in such a short amount of time. It was like dealing with a child - and at some points, it really felt like he was.

But she had kept up with him drink for drink. And it wasn't like she was the worst person to go to a bar with. He had enjoyed going out with her, it was fun and entertaining - he just didn't know what to expect. Now that he did, their future nights out would be better. He would be prepared.

Realizing that he was standing in the middle of her apartment, he took a casual glance around. He hadn't done so the first time; being too distracted with making sure she was taking care of her ankle. But now that he had a second, he noticed the details and little items she had around. There was a massive bookcase filled with books ranging from thick textbooks to trashy romance novels. She had different colored boxes of puzzles under her TV stand and unopened candles lined up by size on another shelf. The more he looked around, the more he began to feel like he was gaining a little more insight into her life. In fact, he had learned much more about Q that night than he had in the almost three months they had spent together.

Before he left, he made sure things were tidied up, then pulled the trash bag out of the can and held it in one hand, using the other to grab her keys from the hook. He wrote her a quick note, telling her that he locked the door and left her keys under the mat out front, which was decorated with sunflowers.

As he walked home - no shoes on his feet, he made a mental note to check in on her in the morning, knowing that she would probably be very hungover.


	18. a new sense of freedom

An intense buzzing sound cut through her subconscious, quickly pulling her out of her deep sleep. She groaned, placing her hand on her forehead as the buzzing stopped. Then, right as she was about to fall back asleep, the buzzing started back up again. Someone was trying to get into her building. At...ten in the morning on a Saturday. Ridiculous. Letting out another groan, she quickly kicked off her covers, wanting to stop the buzzing. She stumbled out of her bedroom, eyes half closed with sleep as she made her way to the speaker. Her fingers found the correct button to stop the buzzing and find out who had the audacity to want to get into building.

"Hello?" she mumbled out, pressing the button next to the first one so she could listen to who was on the other line.

"Hey, it's me. Steve...Rogers." the response came. That woke her up. Her eyes went wide and her heart leapt to her throat. She started mouthing curse words to her empty apartment, one hand going to shove through her hair as she began to freak out.

For a moment, she had forgotten that she was Cap's personal analyst. That her Saturdays weren't just her Saturdays anymore. She had a twenty-four hour, seven days a week job that she needed to be on for all the time, even when she was off.

Suddenly, the night previous came rushing back to her - the bar tour, the drinks, the apartment, what she said...Oh God. Now he was at her apartment. Why was he at her apartment? Why didn't he call first?

"Q? Are you gonna let me in?" his voice came over the speaker, pulling her from her thoughts. She was still in panic mode but she couldn't just leave him out there. He would assume something was wrong - even though there was something wrong; she was very hungover and very embarrassed.

"Uh, yeah, uh-huh, come on up, Cap." she answered him before quickly adding, "But take your time." she glanced down at herself, seeing that she was in shorts and a Bronx zoo t-shirt: how did she get into these clothes? There was no time to stress over that; Cap was on his way up.

She stumbled back into her bedroom, going through a mental list of things she needed to do and trying to organize them in order of importance all while trying to figure out which ones she could get done in a quick, timely manner. She was frantic. Never had he seen her in her current state and she wasn't about to let it happen now. She needed to brush her teeth, fix her hair, change her clothes - oh, she needed a bra.

Even though she told Cap to take his time, the knocking on her door came entirely too fast. She had managed to dress herself - in a pair of leggings that looked like pants (it had a front button and fake pockets) and a long sleeved button up shirt that, yes, had a stain on it, but she covered it up with brown oversized sweater even though it was the middle of August. But at least she had a bra on. She had socks on her feet and was tugging her hair up into a bun on the back of her head as she walked to answer the door.

"Good morning, Cap!" she greeted him brightly, trying to play it cool, but wincing slightly at the sound of her own voice. She was so hungover, but there was no time for that. He grinned at her, holding two breakfast sandwiches in his hands as he gave her a once over.

"You look good for someone who crawled up the stairs on all fours last night." he teased. She slumped down against the door and let out a groan. Of course he was going to tease her about it.

"Shut up." she mumbled out, dropping her facade; it was no use, he obviously remembered the night a lot better than she did. His grin became wider as he followed her into her apartment. She went over to the couch and fell over the armrest so that her face went straight into the cushions.

"Here, I have a breakfast sandwich for you." he offered her one of the two foil wrapped sandwiches he was holding.

Her stomach growled at the smell of the breakfast sandwiches, loud enough for both of them to hear. Her embarrassment grew, but it was overshadowed by her need for food. She stuck her hand up in the air, not bothering to lift her head up for the cushions for fear of having to look him in the eye again. He laughed at the action, but placed the sandwich in her hand.

Rolling off of the couch, she landed on the floor, opening up the breakfast sandwich as he sat down on the floor, on the opposite side of the coffee table. She kept her eyes down, focusing on the breakfast sandwich as if it were the most important thing in the world. The room was quiet as they ate their sandwiches and she thought back to the previous night, wanting to try and fill in the blanks. She knew she didn't black out, but she definitely browned out a little bit, which worried her; how much did she fuck up?

"How are you feeling?" he asked her, pulling her from her thoughts. She glanced over at him quickly before looking away and giving a shrug.

"I'm okay." she paused, taking in a breath and fiddling with the edge of the foil on her sandwich, "I'm sorry you had to deal with me." He gave her a quick grin then shook his head,

"You were fine. It was fun." he nodded at her, "I had fun." She gave him a small smile, relaxing a bit.

"Okay, good." she nodded back at him before pushing herself up onto the couch. She sank into the cushions of the couch, relaxing back a bit. Then, she grabbed a blanket and pulled it over her lap. Taking in a breath, figuring she might as well ask the dreaded question sooner rather than later, "I didn't do anything too embarrassing, did I?" A smirk came over his face that he tried so hard to push down and away. That was the wrong question to ask.

"You mean like the demand for me to draw you or the way you inhaled those cheese fries or when you climbed out of the window of the women's restroom orrrr -"

"Okay! Okay! I get it!" she laughed out, hands covering her face. Cap laughed at her, getting to his feet, only to step over and sit on the opposite end of the couch she was on. She let out a groan, keeping her hands over her face for a moment before lifting her head and deep sighing, "I'm sorry you had to see all that."

"Don't be." he grinned at her, "I had fun." he repeated himself before continuing, "You surprised me."

"Really?" she asked, eyebrows raising, "How so?" He took in a breath and looked away from her, then gave a shrug,

"Well, for one thing, I had no idea you knew the Star Spangled Man with a Plan number." he crossed his legs Indian style as he leaned back against the armrest, smirk ever present. She felt her face heat up with embarrassment and her mouth go dry,

"Please tell me I didn't -"

"No, no," he cut her off with a slight shake of his head, "You almost did, but I stopped you before you let out the second note." She let out another groan, wanting to jump out of her window. How could she be so stupid to think she could keep up with him, drink for drink? Of course she couldn't. His super soldier metabolism was nothing compared to her weasley, regular metabolism.

He let out another slight laugh at her reaction, obviously enjoying what was happening. She sighed and finished her breakfast sandwich as he got comfortable on the couch, pulling a pillow over to rest on his lap. His fingers trailed over the pattern on the pillow, following it for a moment as he thought about something or other.

"Say what's in your head." she prompted him, trying to get the conversation back to focus on him. She had experienced more than enough embarrassment for the day (or week) that she wanted to get back to her default setting with him: aka, business. If that was even possible now. They had way overstepped the boundaries separating professional vs personal; he was literally sitting in her apartment the morning after a night out of drinking. And she didn't mind that! Because it meant they were truly, honestly, friends at this point, but that didn't mean she couldn't try to still be in control of the situation.

"I didn't realize anyone knew that song." he admitted, "I figured people just forgot about me until New York happened…" he trailed off, still looking at the pillow. She studied him for a moment, noticing the slump in his shoulders and the way his brow creased slightly. He truly believed that people had just forgotten about him.

Without another word, she pushed herself off of the couch, stepping over to one of her bookcases and crouching down to the bottom shelf where an album was tucked away amongst the other books. She pulled it out, flipping it to a specific page as she walked back over to the couch. When she found the right photo, she turned the album around, showing him the photo. It was her and her elementary school dance class, dressed in similar costumes like the ones worn in the USO shows. He took the album from her, staring at the picture as a small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Proof that I do actually know the number." she said as she folded herself back on the couch, "And no one forgot about you, Cap. You were the world's first superhero." She gave him a small reassuring smile as she pulled the blanket back onto her lap. He returned it, glancing back down and studying the photo for a moment.

Immediately, he picked her out among the group - the sparkly headpiece was nothing against her dark, wild waves. She looked tiny and innocent; he had never seen her smile as big as she was in the photo. Still, he couldn't help but tease her,

"Do you still have the costume?" he asked with a smirk. He looked up just in time to see her roll her eyes and chuck the pillow that was in between them at him. He caught it, laughing a bit.

It was becoming easier and easier to interact with her. Especially after the previous night; there was a little more freedom in their friendship. He didn't feel as awkward making teasing comments or worrying about her reaction. The jokes and teasings had mostly been one sided up until the night before, but now...he felt a bit more comfortable teasing her. And it would almost always be about what she had said or done during their bar tour.

"Shut up." she scoffed before reaching for the remote and turning on the television. As she pulled up some movie, he looked back at the picture. He didn't have the heart to tell her that he meant people had not only forgotten about Captain America, but Steve Rogers too.

Curled up in the small corner of the armrest, Q had fallen asleep in the middle of the movie. It wasn't so much a movie as it was a cartoon. Hercules, it was called. And it was much better than any of the other cartoons he had seen in the theatres before. The colors were brighter, the movements smoother and the voices matched up perfectly. Steve couldn't look away.

He didn't even realize she had fallen asleep until the cartoon ended. He had turned to ask her what she wanted to do next, but found that she was unconscious - face buried into the back cushion of the couch, arms crossed over her chest and knees up. Obviously the night before was catching up to her. He didn't want to wake her so he let the streaming service autoplay the next movie - another cartoon film, but he barely paid attention to it because he remembered he was still holding the photo album she had given him.

The photo she had shown him was in the middle of the otherwise large leather album. He found himself carefully paging back to the first page, landing on a photo that showed a fairly young Q, donned in overalls and a flannel. The picture under the first one showed her dressed in a lot of bright colors, and she was smiling brightly with another girl around her age.

With each page turn, he saw her grow up and change through the months and years. There were plenty of colorful outfits - a stark contrast from the outfits she wore presently, paired with sparkling hair accessories and even a fanny pack or two. He wanted to ask her questions about each photo, ranging from who was with her to where they were. But she was asleep and he figured she wouldn't be very happy if she knew he was looking through her photo album. She had specifically given it to him with the intent of him only looking at one photo, but he couldn't help himself - he was curious to learn more about her.

When he got to the last page, there was a picture of her with an older woman. Her grandmother, probably. Steve let his eyes linger on the older woman's face, feeling a tug of familiarity in the back of his mind. Before he could figure out who the woman was or why he felt that tug, he heard Q begin to stir as she woke up from her nap. He shut the album, feeling caught in the act, and got up to put it back amongst the rest of her books on the shelf.

Seeing the photos of when she was younger versus how she was now…he could see the difference, for sure. He could see how she'd grown up, how she'd changed. But he also felt like he saw a side of her that she'd kept tucked away, a side that she hid from most everyone.

Another piece in the puzzle.

The rest of the day was spent recovering. She didn't mean to fall asleep on the couch and she was surprised to see that he was still there - intently watching whatever movie had come on after Hercules. He continued to surprise her by hanging out with her for the rest of the day, even though she told him he didn't have to.

But that didn't mean the teasing stopped. Oh, no. That was the one thing he didn't help her get over - continuing to remind her about the embarrassing things she had done or said. On one hand, it was the best way to see that real progress was being made, but on the other hand, it was coming at her expense, which wasn't fun for her.

Still, it was clear that the bar tour had made him a lot more comfortable around her. Since she had made a complete fool out of herself, he wasn't afraid to sass her or show his true feelings toward whatever they were talking about or doing. She really couldn't be mad about it, but she sure as hell could be embarrassed.

After a few days, the embarrassment faded and she found herself not even responding to his remarks or just teasing him back. And as the days passed, she began to remember more details about the night, including how she admitted to him that she sleeping with Rumlow - which was a very serious conversation that she and Cap had about how he couldn't tell anyone (he agreed, but voiced his dislike for the situation).

The two had gotten back into their routine, but there was a new sense of freedom to it. Less like they were doing a job and more like friends hanging out. Yes, they were still professionals, but that didn't mean they couldn't be friends too.

Knowing he was back from his session with Natasha, she let herself into his apartment, wanting to intercept him before he went about his day. His comment about no one remembering him stuck with her since that morning and she decided to prove him wrong.

At her entrance, he looked over from his laptop and gave her a welcoming smile. He had already showered and clearly had used some of the hair product she had given him; the superhero swoop was nowhere in sight. His empty breakfast plate sat beside his laptop which displayed the Wikipedia page for arcade games.

"What are you up to today?" she asked as she stepped over to the table, setting her bag down and meeting his eyes.

"Uh, not sure." he shrugged, glancing back to his laptop, "Why?"

"I was thinking we could go on a little field trip." she suggested, giving him a warm smile. He gave her a wry smirk,

"Will alcohol be involved?" he asked, "Because I need to mentally, physically and emotionally prepare myself for three drink Q." She rolled her eyes at him.

"I only need that many drinks so I can deal with you." she shot back, getting him to laugh. He gently closed his laptop and stood up, taking his empty plate and coffee mug over to the sink to wash them as he answered her,

"I could be convinced." he paused, "Where are we going?" She turned to step over to the breakfast bar, settling herself on one of the barstools.

"The Smithsonian." she responded, "Ever been?" he shook his head, glancing over his shoulder at her. She had on her usual button up shirt and skirt combo that he was used to seeing and was pulling her hair up into a ponytail as she waited for his answer.

"I've heard of it, but we never got a chance to go." he explained, making her job a bit easier.

"Well, it's not too far from here." she gave him a quick smile, leaning on the breakfast bar, "There's a lot of history in there. It'd be a good way for you to learn about everything you've missed." He finished his dishes and nodded as he turned around to look at her, leaning against the sink.

"I think that'd be a good idea." he agreed. Over the past three months, he had been writing down different historical events that he had seen referenced in the newspaper or in different pop culture references. He couldn't very well go sit in on a fourth grade history class. But he could do what most history classes in DC did: visit the Smithsonian.

The museum was crowded with tourists and field trips, but he was getting better with crowds. His baseball cap had become almost like his security blanket. It protected him, made him feel a bit safer and worked well as a disguise.

Even though she had a specific destination in mind, she didn't mind letting him wander. He had missed so much while he was under the ice. The world continued to spin, history continued to happen and it was about time he learned about it. So they took their time walking through the museum. He read every plaque he could, staring up at the exhibits and taking it all in. She was right by his side, not having been to the Smithsonian since high school and even then, she had ditched the tour group to do something else instead.

As they walked through the different exhibits, she watched his reactions to certain historical events or advancements. He jotted a few things down in his notebook to remind himself to read more about once he was home. When they could, the two made casual conversation about the displays - he asked her questions or made comments about certain things, but mostly they kept to themselves. The silence wasn't uncomfortable and neither felt like they needed to fill it, instead they just enjoyed each other's company while learning about the past.

The Captain America exhibit was located in the Air and Space section of the museum. He was interested enough in the different airplanes and spaceships that had been created after he went under the ice. He spent a long time looking at each individual craft, noticing all the details and what each were used for. As they got closer to the exhibit, she watched him carefully, staying a few paces behind him so he could fully take it all in without worrying keeping his emotions underwrap because she was standing right there.

A range of emotions coursed through him before he even stepped into the exhibit. Surprise, nostalgia, sadness, longing, gratefulness, fulfillment...guilt. He didn't even know that there was such an exhibit about him. But there was and it was expansive. He took it slow, noticing every little piece that was in the room. Q trailed behind him, letting him take it all in and he could feel her watchful eye on the back of his head, waiting for him to crack. He was waiting too.

What a strange feeling it was, to have your entire life spread out for you on the walls of an exhibit. Everything you've ever done, said or wore memorialized in a way for people to see. It felt eerily like a grave, except one that took over a whole section of a museum and he was still alive.

All of it was familiar - of course it was; it was his life. Or rather Captain America's life. Everyone always seemed to forget about Steve Rogers, thinking they were the same person. Maybe they were.

The exhibit started at the beginning, before the serum, like a book, leading all the way through the serum, the Howling Commandos and finally what happened when he sacrificed himself to the ice. There were articles, presentations, interviews and plenty of photos to show everything that had happened in those short years.

The room was crowded, but no one noticed that the man whose face was plastered up on the walls was standing right next to them. People were taking pictures of certain parts, parts that he had lived through, parts he didn't want to remember. He lingered for a moment, watching as kids saluted the giant painting of him on the wall or measured themselves up against the changing screens that showed how the serum had affected him. Families hurried through the exhibit with a sense of wonder and amazement that was missing from him. It was a different experience for them; it was just another piece of interesting history.

The back of the room, right in the center, was a giant display of the Howling Commandos. He stood in front of it for a long minute. There was a painting of all of them on the wall behind the mannequins that donned their old uniforms. The painting was detailed, looking almost like a picture that had been scanned right onto the wall. A pang of nostalgia mixed with guilt went through him as he continued to stare at the painting until his vision went blurry.

Taking in a deep breath, Steve brought himself back, blinking quickly and looking away from the display. He slipped his hands into his pockets of his jeans, ducking his head down for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. After a moment, he lifted his head up, turning away from the Howling Commandos' display and landing on the three glass panes that were a few feet away.

Bucky's face was etched into the center glass, alongside a long bio and a few other etches. He didn't even realize he was walking over to it until he was standing right in front of it. Besides the giant print of Bucky's face title was the first thing that stood out to him: A Fallen Comrade. It made his heart ache a little; he was much more than just a comrade. Then he saw the bio, noting how they had written, James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes. He could practically hear Bucky's voice in his head, commenting on how they had finally gotten it right.

His heart pounded in his chest as the narrator started talking - sensing someone was standing in front of it. But everything he was saying, Steve already knew. He knew more than the narrator did. Like how they weren't just best friends or comrades, but brothers. Like how Bucky always carried asthma cigarettes for him or always had a few extra cents in his pocket for popcorn or pretzels. Like how they promised each other to the end of the line, but when it came down to it...Steve didn't follow through.

When the narrator mentioned that Bucky was the only one to lay down his life for Captain American, Steve's chest suddenly tightened up and his breathing became shallow as the day on the train came back to him. The exhibit didn't mention that - how Bucky died because Steve couldn't save him. He knew that he should feel something other than guilt; the museum was hailing Bucky as a hero - which he was, but if Steve had saved him, none of this would be happening.

"Cap?" Q's voice broke through the haze, but sounded far away, even though she was standing right next to him, "You okay?" It drifted around him, concern coating every word she asked, "Cap." This time it was more serious and sharp, an added hand squeezing his bicep to get his full attention. He tore his eyes away from where they were boring into Bucky's etched glass ones to look over at her dark ones.

"I have to go to the bathroom." he managed out, breathless from not breathing properly for the last however many minutes. She nodded, eyes scanning his face for any signs of trauma, not being able to tell that it was all inside. Her hand released him and he turned away from her, quickly moving through the crowd, but careful not to shove anyone out of his away for fear of drawing attention to himself.

Before the bathroom door even swung shut behind him, he had stumbled over to the sinks, gripping the counter tightly. He didn't bother checking if there was anyone else in the bathroom with him, his mind was elsewhere. Back there. He took in a couple of deep, long breaths, not wanting to deal with what was happening in his head. He wanted to shove it back down, lock it away and never think about it again. He had been doing so well, but over the past three months - ever since he met Q, those thoughts refused to stay quiet and hidden away.

Turning on the faucet, Steve let the cold water run over his hand before splashing some on his face to try and pull himself back faster. He didn't want to be too long; she would start to worry and then he would have to talk about it. He had gone this long without talking to her, always avoiding her questions by changing the subject or just not even answering. He was grateful that she went along with it, but he wondered how long it would last.

After he pulled himself together, he exited the restroom, spotting Q from across the room. Even though she was as tall as him, her build was slimmer than his so she didn't quite tower over the crowd, but her wild, wavy ponytail was easy to pick out. She was standing in front of Bucky's memorial, looking it over and unaware that Steve was watching her. She was reading the inscription carefully, like she was trying to memorize it. Then, like she felt his eyes on her, she turned and made eye contact with him. Her expression turned familiar: a half smile on her face, soft and warm, understanding and worried, and he had seen it on someone else before. He forced his feet to move, going back to her, back to the memorial. But he kept his eyes on her, refusing to look at the panels again.

Halfway there, he got distracted. By Bucky's laugh. He stopped in his tracks, looking around for the source of the sound. He hadn't heard it in such a long time - how did - where was - then his eyes landed on a screen that was playing a video from the time the Howling Commandos were being followed around by a film team to record their progress. It was in the barracks, Bucky was laughing at something Steve had said. They looked so happy and carefree, even though they were in the middle of a warzone. It was a brief moment of normalcy that had been captured and preserved for others to see, just like the rest of his life.

Something inside of him broke at the sound. The dam that had been holding back all of the terrible thoughts had broke from the strain of pressure. Throughout the past three months, there had been leaks that he had managed to patch up, push back and keep behind the barrier. But the video was enough to crack it open and destroy all of his efforts at keeping it secure. He couldn't stop it, couldn't patch it up quick enough and everything washed over him. The wave of guilt was massive. More than it had ever been. And it crashed over him, taking him down in the process.

So he ran.

There were plenty of groups of people scattered throughout the exhibit, but with his towering height, it was easy for her to quickly spot him trying to move through them and toward the exit. Her stomach dropped at how he was moving - like he was trying to escape. She went after him, both grateful that the crowds were slowing him down and annoyed that the crowds were keeping them separated.

His reaction was expected. She knew that there was a chance that he would react as he was because he refused to deal with whatever had happened to him. He spoke about his feelings toward people compartmentalizing things, but he never realized how ironic he was being. He was the poster child for compartmentalizing things. To her, he was the type to just push the feelings down and away and hopefully they would just be covered with better things so he would never have to face them.

In a way, she hoped that the exhibit would not only show him that people didn't forget - they celebrated him, but that it would also be a trigger for him. A way for him to finally have to face what he had been hiding from for so long and talk to her about it. But the quick way he reacted and how he ran away from her...well, her plan may have had some flaws.

He made it out of the exhibit before his knees gave out. He pressed his hand to his chest, feeling how fast his heart was beating against his chest. His vision was blurry and his breaths were sharp and quick. The same feeling he had once before in Peggy's room was happening again. A panic attack, Q had called it.

At the feeling of someone's hands on him, he instantly reacted, moving forward and twisting out of the grasp - going into a defensive pose. When had he gotten on the ground? There was a wall supporting his side, but otherwise, he was sitting on the floor of another section of the museum. When he looked up at his attacker, he saw that it wasn't an attacker at all, but Q. She had her hands up in front of her, trying to look non threatening, but her eyes were bright with fear and worry.

His hands dropped and she slowly reached out to him, lowering herself as she went. Then, her arms wrapped around his shoulders and he found himself grasping onto her arm that snaked around his front as if it were his anchor. His mind was moving a mile a minute but there was a small flash of gratefulness toward her and her physical motion of comfort. In the moment, it was needed.

She moved so she was on her knees beside him, letting him lean into her as he calmed himself down. Her voice was soft and quiet, making him interact with him and getting his mind off of what was happening to him. As he answered her questions, he began to feel his heart rate regulate and his breathing return to normal.

Suddenly, he was acutely aware of the fact that he was in the middle of a public place. People could very well see what was happening and if one of them were to recognize him… He moved out of her light grasp, getting to his feet and pulling his baseball cap down low and shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. Without another word, he walked away from her, heading for the glowing red sign that showed him to the exit.

Taking in a deep breath, she got to her feet to follow him out of the museum. He had his hands on his hips, back to her as he took in deep, calming breaths. There was almost no other sign of the panic attack he had minutes before, but she knew the effects were still lingering. She stepped up to him, arms crossing over her chest as she silently stood there next to him. The air was thick with the August heat and the sun was beating down on them. There were two ways she could react. One, tell him what he did was wrong. But he already knew that. Then there was two, act normal. She decided to act normal, not wanting to put more pressure on him.

"We didn't even get to try the food." she sighed out, squinting a bit as she looked out across the parking lot, "They have space ice cream." she screwed her mouth to the side, hearing Cap give a huff of a laugh.

"I'll put it on the list." he looked over to her, giving her a timid smile, "I'm sorry about that, Q." She took in a breath and nodded, giving him that warm smile.

"Let's go to the car." she responded, not verbally acknowledging his apology. She knew he was feeling a little bit embarrassed about how he reacted. There was no reason she needed to lay it on him; his own self awareness was punishment enough. He was grateful. There was a time and a place for jokes and he knew she was smart enough to know that.

Once they got to the car, she surprised him by opening up the side door instead of the driver's side door. He did the same, sliding into the backseat of her car at the same time she did. Without a word, she leaned forward to turn her keys in the car and turn on the battery, letting the air conditioner and radio turn on. Then she sat back, adjusting herself so she was sitting with her back up against the window. He did the same, letting one of his legs fall to the side so his foot was flat on the floor. It was an odd seating arrangement, but she seemed set on it so he went along with her.

"Talk to me." she prompted, "About what happened in there." He took in a breath. Of course she wanted to know about it. Her eyes were curious, but serious at the same time. And because of the way she was looking at him, he knew he couldn't avoid the topic any longer - especially after what happened in the exhibit and what subsequently happened after.

"I'm sorry." he found himself saying again, wanting to apologize for what he had done and how he had reacted. He should be in better control of his emotions regarding reminders about Bucky and what he had been through.

"Cap, why won't you talk to me about this?" she asked, ignoring his apology again. Not because she didn't accept it, but because it wasn't important. At her question, he took in another breath as he played with his fingers. The car seemed to be getting smaller. He looked off to the side, swallowing hard before looking down at his hands. The answer was simple; he didn't trust her. But he didn't want to tell her that because he liked having her as a friend.

"You're with SHIELD." he settled on, hoping it got his point across. For a moment, he didn't make eye contact with her for fear of seeing her reaction - the betrayal on her face. When he did finally look at her, there was no trace of betrayal or really any emotion at all. Her face was unreadable. He hated that about her.

"And?" she asked, raising her eyebrows up, "So are you." he let out a small, humorless laugh and shook his head.

"Only because I have to be." he answered her.

"Same here." she shrugged casually. He eyed her for a moment, not understanding what she was getting at, "Yeah, I'm with SHIELD, but that doesn't mean I am SHIELD. I'm just a person who's trying to help you." she paused, eyebrows still raised a bit, "But I can't very well do that if you refuse to let me in, you know that." another pause, "And you've been doing so well...but every time we hover over this topic, you shut down. Shut me out." she explained seriously, keeping eye contact with him, "And frankly, it's hindering you more than helping you. You just shove everything down and cover it up with non-committal answers or casual topic changes." she started to rant, "For a while now, I've been okay with that because there are other things to worry about, but what happened back there...that shows me that we've been ignoring it for way too long." she shook her head slightly at what she said, "You need to talk about it, Cap."

He eyed her for a moment, waiting for to add on her usual at some point or other reference of time where he could push it off for another day or week. But she didn't. Instead, she steadily held his gaze, enough to make him look away from her.

His stomach twisted up in knots; he really didn't want to talk about it. He knew he needed to, but he feared what would come after. If he started talking about it, he wasn't sure if he would be able to stop or what it would feel like once he was finished talking. He was scared to open up about it.

He looked back at her, meeting her eyes. She noticed how nervous and scared he looked and her face softened. He knew she didn't want him to feel like this; she was only trying to help and she had been – for the past three months she had been. And this was the moment where he would know if she really was here for him or if she was just another SHIELD robot cleverly disguised.

"It was a Hydra train," he started, the knot only getting bigger with each word he spoke, "We had a tip that Zola was traveling somewhere and thought that it was our chance to capture him. One step closer to taking down Hydra." he kept his eyes downcast as he retold the story. The memory was fresh, like it had happened yesterday instead of seventy years ago.

He could feel how the bitter cold nipped against his cheeks, how the wind blew snow from the mountains through his hair and how the ground crunched underneath his boots. The zipline took him and the other two Howling Commandos down to the train, landing right in the ten second window they had. It was treacherous, trying to walk along the speeding train while it wrapped around the mountain, but they had done it. Bucky came into the train with him while Gabe stayed a top the train, keeping a lookout.

"They were ready for us." he continued with his story, "Trapped Bucky in one car and me in another." he could feel his throat tightening as he continued the story. The moment played over and over in his head. People always said traumatic things happened in slow motion, but everything happened so fast - it took him some time to actually remember every detail of it. Once he did, he wanted nothing more than to forget it.

With Bucky fighting off one of the Hydra soldiers, Steve had to fight off one that they had strapped with two cannons they had created. The cannons were fit with blasters that were more powerful than the guns they had with them. As Steve held his own, he could hear the pops of Bucky's machine gun from the other car. He used his shield to take down the soldier with the blasters, knocking him out long enough to help Bucky out when he ran out of bullets. Bucky, who on the other side of the door, looked so determined to fight also had a look of acceptance on his face. Like he knew he was going to die.

Before anything could happen, Steve managed to get the door open so he could toss Bucky his gun, signaling to him that they were going to take down the other soldier together. Which they did, and for a moment, it all seemed like it was going to work out. Until the soldier Steve had been fighting regained consciousness and blasted them with his cannons. In the split second before the blast hit, Steve managed to protect both himself and Bucky with his shield.

"The blast bounced off my shield and blew open the side of the train car," he started, swallowing down the lump in his throat. He took in a shaky breath, "I was knocked to the side of the train car. Bucky picked up the shield and used to to defend himself as he fired at the soldier." he paused, knowing what was coming next, having replayed the moment over and over, "Then another blast went off, hitting the shield and sending Bucky flying out of the train." He blinked rapidly, remembering how desperate Bucky looked, hanging off the side of the train for dear life. The sound of Bucky's yells as he fell to his death haunted Steve for years after.

Steve had immediately gone out after him, holding the bar that was above him and using his strength to try and reach out toward his friend. He remembered the sound of the metal creaking under his weight. The sound of the wind howling as the train whipped around another curve of the mountain. Bucky tried, so desperately, to move toward him, but the bar he managed to grab onto had been loosened by the first blast. All it took was one wrong move for it to release from the side of the train, taking Bucky down with it. And he didn't even try. He just let Bucky fall as he hung on to the more stable bar.

"You know that isn't true." her voice cut through his thoughts. At her comment, he finally looked at her; not only did he not realize he had spoken that last part out loud, but it was the first time she had spoken since he started talking. "You tried to save him."

"But I didn't." he answered her, tone solemn. He looked down at his hands, flexing his palm almost like he could feel how Bucky's fingers brushed over his fingers in a last ditch attempt to try and grab onto him as he fell into the snowy abyss.

"Doesn't erase the fact that you still tried, Cap." she pushed back, trying to make him understand. He shook his head, not believing her - he had spent too many years feeling guilty over what happened and it wasn't going to change any time soon.

"It's all my fault." he paused, "I didn't go after him." he said quietly, finally admitting it out loud. He didn't. His immediate reaction should've been to jump after Bucky and catch him before he hit the ground. Not just stay on the train. Steve could've taken most of the impact. It probably wouldn't have killed him. Just a few broken bones that would heal rather quickly thanks to the serum - much faster than a broken heart.

"What would've changed if you had?" she asked, curiously. He met her curious look and took in a deep breath.

"Everything." he answered her, not knowing for certain if it was true, but it made sense to him. If Bucky was still around, maybe he wouldn't have gone into the ice. Maybe he wouldn't be in a time without him. Maybe they both would've taken down Hydra, together.

After he answered her, they were quiet for a long moment. He had never felt so vulnerable with her before. The car still seemed smaller, but only because he had filled up the space with everything he had been holding in for such a long time. The guilt was still there - it would always be there, but it felt a little bit easier to handle now that someone else knew what he was dealing with.

She let him sit with himself for a moment more, thinking to herself as he did the same. She had read the story before, but it was different when she heard it coming from the source. The way he talked about Bucky...it was clear that he loved his friend a lot and was harboring a lot of guilt over something that he couldn't do anything about. The most she could do was help him work through the guilt and maybe eventually accept that it wasn't his fault.

After a moment, she started asking him a few follow up questions. She had been clearly holding onto these questions for a while; now that he had personally told her, she felt a little more comfortable asking them. He still felt like he had to force himself to say the words that had been haunting him for as long as he could remember out loud. But as they continued, it got a little bit easier to answer her. When she was finished with her line of questions, a small wave of relief washed over him; it actually felt sort of good to tell someone.

That relief only lasted a minute or two before regret settled itself in the middle of his stomach. As they moved to sit up in the front seats so she could take him back to his apartment, he began to regret telling her anything. What were the consequences of his actions? Did he make a mistake in telling her?

Only time would answer his questions and until then, he would be in a constant state of nervousness.


	19. between the two of them

By God, he trusted her.

He didn't think he would be able to pinpoint the exact moment it happened. He just believed that it would naturally occur after a while. Just as them becoming friends did. But after what happened, he was easily able to see the exact moment the tides turned in favor of her. And suddenly, he was able to fully trust her.

Before their Friday Fury meetings, she had given him the usual thick packet of information that documented the last few weeks they had spent together. As usual, he didn't have time to read over before sitting down with Fury, so he depended on the Director to talk him through the packet.

Ever since their trip to the Smithsonian, Steve had been bracing himself for the conversation that would come concerning his breakdown because of Bucky's memorial. He was tense for the whole thirty minutes he spent in Fury's office, just waiting for the moment he would mention the Smithsonian. But the only question the Director had for him was if he had tried the space ice cream.

There was nothing else. Nothing about the Captain America exhibit or his breakdown or his talk with Q in the car...it was like it never happened. But it did happen. How did Fury not know about it? Was it marked in his report with a note to not discuss it? Or was it not in his report at all?

Steve left the conversation more confused than anything, following Dawson to his lab as Q went into her meeting. While Dawson tinkered with something or other, Steve took Dawson's report off of one of his tables and flipped through it. There was a section marked with Other Activities that he opened up to, scanning the redacted passages for any hint of his Smithsonian visit. Dawson's report didn't have much that he could read, but he still managed to slip it out with him after Q was finished with her meeting.

They had carpooled to the Triskelion which meant that she had to drive him back to his apartment. He knew she put her own report in the backseat on top of her messenger bag so it was easy to swipe her copy as well. A little voice went off in the back of his head that he probably shouldn't have taken her copy, but he ignored it. All he wanted to do was compare them with his own - see if he was missing the section about the Smithsonian or if it just wasn't included.

He had a few hours to himself; she wouldn't be coming back until after dinner for their evening conversation, so after turning on a record, he sat down on his couch and spread the packets out on the coffee table. His was in the middle, theirs flocking. He flipped each one open to the Other Activities section to see the differences. Where Dawson's was all redacted and his had a few blacked out sections, he was able to read everything in hers.

But even with the unredacted paragraphs, there was still no mention of the events that took place at the Smithsonian. It wasn't even noted on the graphs or charts in any of the three packets he had in his possession. She left it out.

He had one answer, but was riddled with more questions. Why would she do that? It had to have been important to her progress reports. Did she forget? She didn't seem like the type. But she also didn't have her notepad or recorder on her so maybe she didn't remember. He wouldn't get his answers until that evening when Q let herself into his apartment. They went through their normal routine - talking about his day, which eventually led him to admitting that he had stolen her report.

"I know." she responded, trying to suppress her obviously amused smile, "And you also took Dawson's." she added on, leaning forward in her chair, ankles crossing. He felt his cheeks heat up at being called out, but he nodded in response. "Why'd you take them?" she asked, not sounding mad, but curious.

"In my meeting with Fury, he didn't bring up what happened in the Smithsonian." he explained, meeting her eyes, "And I wondered why."

"Because I didn't put it in my report." she said simply, adding a casual shrug. Before he could ask why, she continued, "Some things can just stay between us." she motioned in the space between them. His brow furrowed slightly as he tried to figure out the meaning behind her excuse.

He came to the conclusion that, if anything, it was a verbal olive branch; she knew how much he hated and distrusted SHIELD and this was her way of showing that she wasn't just SHIELD, but a friend. And in that moment, he began to trust her.

Not putting the event at the Smithsonian in the report was a calculated risk. But a risk she was willing to take. She should have put it in, made a point of talking about it with Fury; it was an important thing to mention. The whole field trip threw off her graphs and charts, sending them spiking up in a way she had never seen before - blowing past the panic attack at the retirement home and what happened at the World War II memorial. But she had purposefully adjusted the data to make it look like nothing happened.

During her meeting with Fury, he thought that since there were no outliers it meant that Cap was adjusting just fine. He was expecting a freak out and since she had manipulated the data to show that Cap didn't have a freak out at the exhibit (even though he did), Fury believed progress was still being made. It was the first lie she had ever told him.

One thing she didn't count on was Cap stealing both her and Dawson's reports to find out if she had intentionally left the Smithsonian conversation out. She didn't realize she was missing it until she got home and then figured out that he must've taken it after Dawson called her about his missing packet. Her first instinct was to go back to the apartment and take them back from him. Because there was so much he could read and find out - like how Sharon had been planted in the apartment next to him. He could find out the lies and secrets she kept. She would lose all credibility. But for some reason, she had let him keep it for the rest of the day. Call it trust or call it acceptance, either way she hoped that he found what he was looking for.

And that rang true; he only seemed focused on the Smithsonian section. He didn't look upset about anything else in the packet nor did he mention anything about the other sections. And when he admitted he took them, she tried not to laugh at how embarrassed he looked - like he had gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Plus, once she confirmed that she had intentionally left out the Smithsonian conversation, he immediately gave the packets back to her and apologized for taking them. Clearly, all he wanted was to double and triple check that she had left out their conversation at the museum.

"Is that okay?" she asked, referring back to when she said that some things were being kept between each other. He hadn't told anyone about Rumlow (that she knew of) so she figured she could do the same for him. And it was her way of trying to prove to him that she was more than her title suggested.

"Yeah," he nodded, rubbing his hands together, "Thank you for not telling anyone, Q." he said sincerely.

"Of course, Cap." she gave him a warm smile, "Whenever you say something you want to keep between us, just let me know." she continued, trying to show him that it wasn't just a one time thing. Based off the conversation they had at the museum, she knew they were bound to have similar ones in the future. And she wanted him to feel comfortable telling her those things without worrying about if it would get back to Fury. She was beginning to toe the line when it came to telling Fury certain things or not - like the museum conversation.

Cap didn't have much to talk about for the rest of the evening, but she noticed that some tension had left his shoulders. On paper, the breakdown in the Smithsonian did not bode well with the rest of her data. But in person, there was a clear shift from how he was before versus after. Especially after he realized she had kept it between the two of them.

"Do you want to open another box?" she questioned, marking the time at the top of the page and circling it. It wasn't a long conversation, but that wasn't a bad thing. Most of his day was spent comparing the three progress reports or in the Triskelion so she hadn't expected it to be a long conversation.

He glanced over to where a few boxes were stacked up by the window. The stack had become significantly smaller since his things were delivered but there were still a few boxes he had yet to open. She wondered what was in there that could be so bad or scary.

"Sure." he answered, though sounding a little nervous about it. He took in a breath and pushed himself up from the couch. She followed him over to the stack and pointed to the one on the bottom.

"That one." she chose. He nodded and carefully took the other boxes off of the bottom one then picked up the box she chose, carrying it over to the dining room table.

Stepping up to the table, she looked from the box to him and raised her eyebrows. He stared at the box for a moment. She knew some of his boxes contained painful memories of the past, which was why it had taken him so long to go through some of them. As soon as he opened one and saw what was in it, he shut it and placed it against the wall. But now it was time to face the fear box.

"The worst thing that could be in there is a dead animal." she reminded him, hoping to relieve some of the tension that had returned in his shoulders. He let out a small laugh and shook his head, then reached for the box, reopening the flaps.

Curious, she peered inside, seeing a bunch of old knick knacks and trinkets. She reached for the bigger, rolled up poster that was nestled against the side and pulled it out. It unfurled and she came face to face with a poster from the USO shows. Cap was decked out in the uniform that was on display at the Smithsonian, pointing at the camera with the words, I WANT YOU TO BUY WAR BONDS NOW written across the poster along with some details of the upcoming shows. She peered over the poster, a bright smile spreading across her features.

"Oh my God, Cap." she stated, slowly turning the poster around so he could see, "Look at this." she continued, voice still slow for emphasis. At the sight of the poster, he groaned a bit, shaking his head, "You kept a poster!" she exclaimed, laughing a bit, "All those talks about how much you hated these things and felt like a circus monkey and you kept a poster!"

"It was given to me, Q." he corrected her, "They put it in my apartment in New York to remind me of the shows." he explained, hands resting on his hips.

"And you kept it." she pointed out what he was failing to admit. She grinned at him, eyes bright as she laughed to herself. She turned it back around, taking in all the details of it, "Look at that costume." she said appreciatively, "You look like Uncle Sam, but younger and more fit."

"That was the idea." he sighed out. She glanced up from the poster and at him, the grin still on her face,

"Alright, keep or get rid of?" she asked, waving it slightly. It was a game they played with every box they went through. Some of the items he tossed, some he kept and they placed somewhere in his apartment.

"Keep." he said decidedly, surprising her.

"Ooo, twist!" she shook the poster a bit and then nodded, "Okay, I will get this framed for you and we'll hang it up." she said seriously with a slight grin, "I think it should go right on that wall space so it's the first thing you see when you walk through the door." she teased, motioning with her hand.

"Or in the bathroom." he shot back. She rolled her eyes at him and re-rolled up the poster, setting it down on the table.

The next thing he pulled out was an old, leather journal. It was similar to the one Q had gotten him, but bigger and definitely well used. She watched him carefully open it and begin to turn through the yellowing pages. Stepping over to him, she stood by his side and watched the pages go by, getting glimpses of what he had written or sketched.

"Was this from when you were on tour?" she asked, noting the circus monkey he had drawn. She glanced over at him to see him nod, his jaw clicking just enough for her to know that he was thinking back to those days. She took the journal from his hands, going back to the drawing of the circus monkey.

The monkey was wearing his stars and stripes costume, holding the shield in one hand and the umbrella in another. He had mentioned quite a few times that when he was doing the USO shows he felt like a circus monkey, so she didn't feel that they needed to touch on that again. But on the opposite page was a train going across a country, his small, tight cursive handwriting underneath captioning it. His handwriting was just as beautiful as the sketches. It was sort of funny to know that man like him had such perfect, almost girly handwriting. She carefully turned the pages back, seeing that there more drawings than actual journaling. There were sketches of the other costumes the girls who he performed with wore or the skylines of the cities he had been in with dates and names underneath.

Then, as she continued back in the journal, something fell out onto the floor. She looked down at the floor seeing the small piece of yellowing paper. Reaching down, she picked it up with one hand, handing the journal back to Cap with her other.

"What's this?" she asked, flipping the paper over. It was thicker than a normal piece of paper. At the top of the paper titled the slip as something from the Department of Selective Service and it was a certificate of acceptance.

"It's an old army draft slip." he answered, stepping up to her and reading it over, "One of many that denied me enlistment." he sighed. She looked it over, seeing the giant 4F stamp in the box alongside the checked box that stated that whoever examined him found that he was not acceptable for induction into active military service.

"I thought you were from Brooklyn." she said, pointing at the address line where his handwriting prettily said he lived in New Haven. He let out a small chuckle and took the slip from her,

"I am." he started to explain, "But they denied me enlistment there so I went to a different district and tried to enlist using a different address."

"Wasn't that illegal?" she asked brow furrowing a bit as she looked over to him. She may not have attended a lot of her high school classes, but she remembered a few things from the classes she did attend. One of them being her advanced placement American history class. He raised his eyebrows and nodded, letting out a sigh.

"Didn't stop me though." he admitted, "Tried five different times in five different districts until Erskine found me."

"Why did you continue to try even though they always denied you?" she asked curiously. "Why not just find some other way to get involved like collecting scrap metal or buying war bonds." The corner of her mouth tugged up at the joke and he rolled his eyes at her before taking in a breath.

"Because there were men laying down their lives, Q. I had no right to do any less than them." he said seriously, almost like he was repeating something he had said before. She nodded at him, giving him an understanding smile. Of course. They had talked about why he fought in World War II. It was more about bullies than it was about wanting to kill people.

"And look where you are now." she added, lightly punching his chest. He laughed a little and put the slip back into the journal,

"Keep." he moved on, raising his eyebrows up a bit. She nodded and turned back to the box, reaching in to grab one of the trinkets.

It was small and round and had a clasp that was easily opened by Q pressing her finger against it. When it popped open, she realized it was a compass and the next thing she saw was Agent Carter's face pasted in the upper circle. Cap quickly grabbed it from her and snapped it shut. She met his eyes and saw his face reddening with slight embarrassment.

"Wait!" she cooed out, "Did you have Agent Carter's picture in your compass?" she made her voice a bit higher as she awhed, "Cap!" she pressed her hands to her heart, feeling it swell a bit, "That's adorable." He didn't answer, glancing down at the compass as his fingers played with it. It was probably the sweetest thing she had learned about him in the past three months.

"C'mon," she reached out to him, pulling at his arm even though she knew she wasn't going to make him move, "It's nothing to be embarrassed about! I had a locket with a picture of twelve year old me and Joey McIntyre from New Kids on the Block." she said matter of factly, pulling down the corners of her mouth and shrugging a bit. Cap picked his head up to look at her, eyebrows furrowing.

"Is that…"

"A boy band, yes." she finished for him with a tired sigh at her past self. He smirked at her, obviously amused by that little factoid before moving to go get his notebook. She rolled his eyes at his reaction as he jotted down the name in his notebook. She picked up the compass from where he left it on the table and popped it open again.

Her finger trailed over the edge of the picture and she noticed that he had taken it from the newspaper. There must've been some sort of article on Agent Carter that he had read and then cut out her picture to paste it into his compass. Keeping Agent Carter's photo in his compass was true romance at it's finest. And sure, the basics of the compass picture was sweet - just as her silly middle school locket. But it showed that Agent Carter was always his true North. Who he turned to in his time of misdirection, someone to guide him home.

"They found this with you when they found you in the ice, didn't they?" she asked, looking over at him as he stepped back to her. She held it out to him, letting him take it from her. She had seen the list of items that were found in the ship that was pulled from the ice along with him. It mentioned a compass, but she didn't realize it was that kind of compass.

"Yeah," he sighed out, fiddling with it, "I kept it with me all the time. It was a good compass." she gave him a small smile as he made eye contact with her again.

"So definitely keep." she confirmed, sensing how much the compass meant to him. Not just because it was a good compass, but because of what it represented. With a nod, he slipped the compass into his pocket and continued to go through the box, not mentioning it for the rest of the evening.

Once the box was empty and separated into the two piles, she grabbed her messenger bag and got ready to go. Cap was busy placing the things he was keeping around the apartment, but that didn't stop her from talking to him.

"Cap, our conversation at the Smithsonian got me thinking," she started, pushing the progress reports into her bag, "Have you ever considered going to a meeting down at the Veterans' Association?" she asked, looking over at him. He stopped what he was doing and turned to meet her eyes.

"The Veterans' Association?" he repeated, brow furrowing a bit.

"Yeah, it's where a bunch of veterans meet and talk about what they've been through. They talk about adjusting back to the world. Their struggles and successes…" she trailed off, picking up his laptop and stepping over to him, "I think it would be good for you to go. Talk to someone who's been through something similar." he took the laptop from her and nodded in response. "Look up when the meetings are and let me know if you go to one, okay?" she finished.

"I will, Q." he promised and she gave him a warm smile in return.

"Good. I'll see you tomorrow, Cap." she bid him goodnight, walking out of the apartment and shutting the door firmly behind her.

Steve spent the rest of the night researching the Veterans' Association she had mentioned. He knew what they were - a few had been around after World War One, but there was never an official name for them. Mostly, it was just a few people who got together at a bar every week and talked about their experiences. It was interesting to see how the tradition had continued and grown into something as official as an association.

The DC branch was easy to find and he saw that there were a few meetings happening throughout the next day and into the evening. He wrote down the address and the times of the meetings before turning off his laptop and getting ready for bed.

When the next day rolled around, he ended up missing the first two meetings because he had other commitments - running and training with Natasha. The next ones weren't until later in the afternoon and early evening. He relayed this information to Q, who immediately cancelled their evening conversation, telling him that he should use the time to attend one of the meetings. They could talk the next day about what he thought of them.

So that evening, Steve found himself standing in front of the building where the veterans' association held its meetings. He stared up at the building, hands bunching in his jeans' pockets for a moment before he turned away and started to walk around the block. He was nervous. He had never been to one of these meetings before; when he was pulled out of the ice, he didn't have time before the battle in New York. Then afterward, he didn't even know that there was something like it still around. He was content with punching through the pain. Until Q came along and forced him to face it head on.

It had taken him three months with her to even get to a point where he felt like he could talk about anything super serious with her. Did she think it would be easier for him to talk about it with a group of strangers? Maybe he didn't have to talk. He could just sit in the back and listen to other people tell their stories. The experiences had to be similar. War was war.

On his third loop around the block surrounding the building, he continued to debate with himself. Q was right, it would be good for him to talk to people who knew what it was like to be in a warzone one day and then be in a totally normal world the next. She had no idea what it was like - not that he would ever want her to. It was hard. Harder than anything he had to do. These people would understand on a deeper level than she could.

But then again, he already had someone who he could talk to about everything. That much was clear. And he trusted her to understand and not judge him for anything he said. The meeting she wanted him to go to was more for people who didn't have that support system. He didn't want to take that away from other people who needed it more than him.

With that in mind, when he made it back to the front of the building, he continued past it once more - not to walk around the block again, but to where he parked his motorcycle. He let out a breath and straddled his bike before digging his phone out of his pocket.

Her phone trilled from where it was on the nightstand. It was the ringtone she had put with Cap's contact so she would know when he was calling her. With a small groan she rolled off of Rumlow and reached for her phone. She gave a stern look to him to make it clear that he needed to control his labored breaths. He nodded as she answered the phone, trying to sound normal.

"Captain," she winced; she never called him captain unless they were in the Triskelion, "is everything okay?"

"I went to the Veterans' Association." he answered her and she perked up at that. She had wondered how the meeting had gone. She got out of the bed, leaving Rumlow there and stepping out of the bedroom to the living room.

"How was the meeting?" she asked, walking over to the chair and grabbing a cardigan that was discarded there. She wrapped it around her naked body as she walked to the fire escape and stepped out onto it.

"I didn't go to a meeting." he responded, "I already have someone I can talk to about adjusting back to the world." he repeated what she said to him the other day. She felt her heart skip a beat at that. She didn't realize how much he liked talking to her. She thought that the Veterans' Association meeting would be more helpful to him than just her. Another outlet for him to express and deal with all the pain he had gone through.

"Really?" she asked, beginning to tease him as she leaned against the outside wall of the building, "What's she like?"

"I never said the person was a she." he pointed out with a slight laugh, "But she's incredibly nosey...always wanting to know what's going on with me…"

"Hey!" she laughed out, hearing him laugh with her, "Who called who, hmm?" she asked, "Someone's feeling very needy tonight." she teased and he let out a noise of mock offense. She laughed a little before both of them quieted down. She took in a breath and shook her head, "Speaking of needs, I was kinda in the middle of something, Cap." she said pointedly. He made a disgusted noise as he figured out what she was referring to.

"Oh God, I don't want to know." he responded and she heard the low rumble of his motorcycle on the other side, "I'll see you tomorrow, Q."

"Good night, Cap." she ended the call and stepped back into her apartment.

If there was one thing she knew for certain, it was that he trusted her. God, finally.


	20. turn the tables

Over the past three months, there had been good days and bad days at Sunrise Retirement Home. She hadn't been there for all of them, nor had she heard about all of them. Most of the time she only heard about the good days - knowing that if he shrugged his shoulders and gave a non-committal answer, it meant it was a bad day. When it was a bad day, she never tried to push him to talk about it; she was sure it was tough enough to see Agent Carter like that.

Sometimes, if his visit was scheduled for the evening, she accompanied him to the home - staying downstairs and working on one of the puzzles during his visit. She didn't want to intrude on his time with with Agent Carter, knowing how important it was for both of them. The home was nice enough to send her reports on how helpful the visits were for Agent Carter - when it was a good day at least.

Even though he never talked about his past with her, Q knew that there was quite a history between the two. She had read the files and heard the stories from inside of SHIELD but after seeing the compass and noting his reaction to it...clearly there was much more to the story than what was in the files and whatever rumors floated around SHIELD. But that was on the list of topics that he refused to talk about - just like Bucky was.

After he opened up about Bucky, she hoped he would be a little less guarded about opening up about other things. But he wasn't: using the same techniques he used in the past whenever she tried to bring up Agent Carter. Deflect and redirect. She would just have to be patient.

Her puzzle was almost done when she heard the ding of the elevator. Glancing over, she saw Cap stepping out - hands stuffed into his jeans' pockets, head down. It had turned into a bad day, or rather evening. She pushed out of her chair and grabbed her things so that she could meet him in the middle of the hallway.

"How'd it go?" she asked politely, even though she already knew the answer. He picked up his head and made eye contact with her, eyes looking sad and tired.

"It was fine." he shrugged, giving his usual non-committal answer as he did on the bad days. She gave him a sad smile and nodded, "Can we get out of here?" he asked, glancing around the hallway, almost like if he stayed any longer, he would start to break down. For some reason, it seemed worse than it usually was. Like it wasn't just a bad day, but something more.

"Of course." she gave him a warm smile before leading him out of the home.

He was quiet during the whole ride - not even commenting on the song they were listening to (they had made it to the early 90s). She glanced over at him every so often, trying to keep an eye on him. His head was against the window, like he was watching the scenery passing by, but his eyes were cloudy and his hands were balled into fists. He was slipping back into that dark place that he often went to whenever he was reminded of something he had tried so hard to forget. She needed to get him out of that place before he started to drown like he had in the Smithsonian.

"What are we doing here?" he asked as she parked her car in the lot in front of a diner. She didn't answer him at first, getting out of her car first. From the wall of windows, they could tell it wasn't busy - why would it be on a Wednesday night? She shrugged and looked over her car at him,

"Because I realized I haven't eaten anything all day." she played it off, not wanting him to think she was doing it for him - even though she was. He needed a pick-me-up and if that came in the form of grilled cheeses and tomato soup, then so be it.

Once they were in the booth, she ordered the same thing for both of them, getting a confused look from him that she questioned,

"What?" she asked, stabbing her straw into her soda.

"I thought you didn't like vegetables." he stated, brow furrowing a bit more.

"Tomato soup barely has any tomatoes in it. It's mostly just heavy cream." she leaned forward to sip her soda, eyebrows raising as he watched her. Then she sat back in her booth, giving a shrug, "Plus, a grilled cheese and tomato soup always makes me feel better after a rough day."

"I didn't have a rough day." he looked away from her, focusing on his glass of water. He reached out to it, gently turning it in a circle against the table. His eyes were focused on the water as he thought back to what happened in the retirement home. She watched him for a moment, seeing how his features hardened a bit and the shaky breath he took in as he remembered whatever happened with Agent Carter.

"Cap," she got his attention, pulling his eyes away from the water glass, "Whatever happened, it wasn't your fault." she carefully said, not knowing if she was referring to present day or something in the past, but it fit either way. He took in a shaky breath and nodded a bit, glancing down at his lap as his hand continued to turn the water glass.

"It's just hard to see her like that." he admitted. He wasn't looking at her, but that didn't stop her from giving him a small, understanding smile, waiting for him to continue. "She used to be this woman who was whip smart, confident and way more skilled than any of the other men."

"She still is." she pointed out, not wanting him to forget that. He took in a breath and nodded a little, slightly agreeing with her.

The waitress placed their plates and bowls down in front of them and briefly stopped their conversation. Q leaned forward, picking up a half of her sandwich and dunking it into her soup. She took a bite and chewed as she watched him stare at his sandwich and soup.

"She was the only one who believed in me." Cap admitted quietly, "After Erskine died and I was put in the USO shows, she was the only one who believed I could be something more than just a performer or a science experiment."

That was all it took. Just like what happened in her car at the Smithsonian, the floodgates opened and he started to talk to her about Agent Carter. From the moment they met until their final conversation. She listened intently, quietly eating her meal as he described each of their interactions.

The way he talked about her was poetic. He talked about her like she was a goddess and he was just a regular old guy who just happened to be lucky enough to be blessed by her presence. She didn't have to imagine anything; he painted the scene like it was one of his pieces in his journals. Using as much detail as he could, made her feel like she was there, experiencing it all with him.

As he talked about the little moments, the small moments where it was just the two of them, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His eyes became a little brighter with laughter when he mentioned the night at the bar where Bucky tried and failed to pick her up. A blush of embarrassment started to creep up the side of his neck while he talked about her walking in on him kissing another SSR officer and how he thought fondue was code for...something else - which Q teased him about, making him laugh lightly.

Then his expression changed. His eyes became sad again and the smile slid off his face. He was holding his breath, not wanting to talk about what came next. She let him work through it, knowing that it was better than interrupting and trying pull it from him.

"We were supposed to go dancing." his voice was solemn. He stared at a space behind her, like he was looking into the past. "At the Stork Club, eight pm." A small, sad laugh escaped as he shook his head, "I don't even know how to dance." She gave him a sympathetic smile, but didn't comment.

"I knew I wasn't going to make it." he continued after a moment, "Both of us did." he paused for a moment, "A small part of me hoped that I would." he raised his eyebrows up and took in a breath, "Though, I guess I did. About seventy years too late."

"A new meaning to the term fashionably late." she joked quietly, not wanting him to spiral into his regret hole. He let out a small huff that she considered a dry laugh. He took in a breath and looked down at his untouched plate of food.

"You love her." Q stated, after a moment, using the present tense of the verb.

"I do." he confirmed, meeting her eyes with a slight nod. She gave him another small, sad and understanding smile.

Hearing him talk about Agent Carter broke her heart a little - not only because of the sad nature of the story, but because even after all the time had passed, he still loved her just as much as he did back in the forties. But it was no longer the forties. Time had moved on and yet he still held her on such a high pedestal. No woman would ever compare to her or even come close to being as important as she was to him.

Even though it was heartbreaking and sad, it was also kind of admirable. She had never felt that way about someone. Honestly, she wasn't sure she had ever been in love. If anything, all of her relationships were just fleeting moments of passion. After hearing Cap talk about Agent Carter with full adoration, her heart suddenly longed for someone to talk about her like that. Or to have someone to talk about like that.

After talking to her about Agent Carter, his appetite returned full force. He dug into his meal - even though it was cold. She watched him, staying silent and thinking about everything he had said. She couldn't shake the feeling of longing, wanting what he had with Agent Carter. The endless, epic love story. All she needed to do was find someone who wanted that with her.

The rest of her night was spent alone. She dropped Cap off at his apartment, feeling both accomplished and a little sad. They had reached another major milestone. Him opening up about Agent Carter was more than just a tick off the list of untalkables. It proved that he still trusted her and that it wasn't going away or changing any time soon. But she was still left with a pit of sadness in her gut; she couldn't stop thinking about the way he talked about Agent Carter.

Q was used to being alone. It was never a bad thing to her. That was until what happened in the diner. Listening to Cap talk about Agent Carter made her really realize how alone she was and how much she didn't like it. It was kind of her fault though. She didn't have romantic relationships.

A part of her believed that she wasn't even the type someone would get into a relationship with. She might come off as having her shit together - what with all the binders and folders and graphs and pantsuits, but it was all just a cover. She feared that once someone found out who she was underneath the pantsuits and organization, they would leave and she would be alone once again. So she kept people at arm's length, even if they were friends. There was only so much they knew about her.

The only "relationship" she had in her life at that moment was her non-relationship with Rumlow. And there was no way she was going to make that into a serious one. He wasn't the type to be in a serious relationship with and she had made it very clear at the beginning that it was nothing more than sex. She wasn't about to ruin that based off a conversation with Cap. But if she wanted to have something like Cap had with Agent Carter then she was going to have to make some changes. The big one involving her situation with Rumlow.

She spent the rest of the night doing what she did best: putting together a pro-con list. One major con was that she would have to end her sex-ationship with Rumlow. Which she really didn't want to give up; it was good. They both got what they wanted without the fear of having to commit to anything. It was easy and didn't require much thinking - or overthinking. If she ended it, she would have to start all over, which required effort. Plus, it would have to be based off trust and general likability, not just immediate attraction and infatuation. They would have to know her...all of her. It was a risk she wasn't sure she was willing to take.

If she was being honest, that's what scared her the most about getting into a real relationship. Having someone know all of her deep dark secrets - not that she had that many, but being with that person and then it not working out was a big concern for her. What if they used what they knew against her? It would be heartbreaking.

On the other hand, she could find someone who would know her, who would know everything about her - the good, bad and ugly and still love her and stay with her. They could end up together forever in the same way that Cap wished he could've been with Agent Carter. It was almost a fantasy for her. But maybe it was achievable. She just needed to find the right person.

Over the course of the night, the pro-con list became longer and the pros started to outweigh the cons. A knot tied itself in her stomach; the list didn't lie. She knew what the next step had to be. And it terrified her.

Morning had broke before she had been able to act on what the list told her to do. Luckily, Rumlow called before she could call him. She agreed to the early morning, pre-work booty call. She might as well get it while she could. She just didn't realize that it would be their last time. It just sort of...happened.

There was something different about their time together. She noticed things she didn't normally pay attention to or care about. Until now. For the longest time, she thought what they had was good, but it was really just...not and only what she was used to.

Usually she didn't care how rough his kisses were, but she found herself aching for the soft, tender and loving kisses. When it came to foreplay, he didn't really take his time or make sure she was enjoying it - just trying to get her off as quickly as possible. He was impersonal and selfish, really only caring about the main part and about his needs being met.

Once he was finished, she realized it was a good a time as any for their sex-ationship to be ended. She didn't want what she had with him. She wanted something real and lasting. Something that didn't have to be hidden or secretive. Sure, she loved the thrill of banging her co-worker in secret, but she wanted something more. Something he couldn't give her - hell he could barely give her an orgasm.

"We're done here." she stated as simply as possible, shoving him off of her.

"I'm sorry, what?" he responded, confused as he rolled onto his stomach so he could maintain eye contact.

"I said, we're done." she said seriously. A smirk appeared on his face as his fingers lightly trailed down her arm,

"For this morning? I mean, clearly." he winked at her and she pulled her arm away from his touch.

"No, in general. This was the last time." she tried to get the point across as plainly as possible. She really didn't want to get into the details and hoped Rumlow was smart enough to understand what she was saying.

"What do you mean?" he asked, brow furrowing as she sat up in bed. Obviously not. She took in a breath and looked down at him,

"Our little agreement is over." she said before turning away from him and moving to get off the bed. He suddenly grabbed her wrist tightly, stopping her from standing up and making her look over his shoulder at him,

"Are you serious?" he asked. She nodded, humming a sound of confirmation, "And I get no say in this." he stated.

"Not really, no." she simply responded with a shrug, "It's been a good run, but our time is done."

"So you're dropping me? Just like that?" he sounded offended, almost like no girl had ever dumped him before. There was a first time for everything.

"It's not personal." she said half-heartedly, trying to say the right things that would make him leave faster. Never had she had such a long nonbreakup break-up. Usually she just disappeared, stopped returning calls and texts. But this was different. Since they worked together, she wouldn't be able to avoid him like the others. That was her first mistake - banging a coworker.

"It very clearly is."

"Rumlow, stop." she suddenly cut him off, using her no nonsense tone, "I'm not arguing with you about this. It's over. We're done." she pulled her wrist from his grasp and stood up from the bed. She was tired of trying to get the most obvious point across. He sat up, watching as she crossed in front of the bed and began gathering up his clothes.

"Why are you breaking up with me?" he asked suddenly, getting her to stop in her tracks.

"Woah, woah, woah, there's no breaking up." she put her hands up, dropping the clothes she had just picked up, "We weren't together. We fucked occasionally and now, we're not. End of story." Breaking up required there to be a relationship. Which there hadn't been one. So it didn't really qualify as a break up.

"I at least deserve a reason." he argued. She groaned; he was making this harder than it needed to be. She reached down, going to pick up his clothes again, "Q, I'm a human being."

"It's just not gonna work for me anymore." she tossed him his clothes.

"Goddamnit, Q! You can't just do this!" he batted his clothes away, ignoring them and instead getting out of the bed and stepping over to her. His eyes were clouded with anger and his jaw was clenched. She didn't care. He was obviously just pissed that he didn't have any say in the situation or any way to make her change her mind.

"I just did." she said calmly, keeping her cool.

"Motherfucker-"

"Just leave, Rumlow." she cut him off, "Please." she gestured to his clothes and then the door. He ignored her, stepping closer to her,

"Not until you give me a reason." he said seriously. She sighed and rolled her head back, arms crossing over her bare chest,

"I gave you a reason."

"I want another one." he spat out. She made eye contact with him, keeping her stance firm.

"You're not giving me what I need anymore." she answered truthfully. It was true. If the list she had made showed anything, it was that she wanted more than just sex and she knew she wasn't going to find that with him.

"Bullshit."

"It's the truth." she stated, "I don't know what else you want from me. Please get dressed and leave." She was being as polite as she possibly could, all things considering. Half of her was tempted to start reacting to his anger - be the bitch and start tossing his clothes out the front door before forcing him out there with them. She had done it before, but she wasn't that person anymore.

He paused for a moment, eyeing her before slowly stepping forward. His face softened, an easy smile coming across his features. She held her ground, watching him as he came closer and closer before wrapping his arms around her waist. She didn't budge, keeping her arms crossed and feeling his hands skate down to her ass.

"C'mon, baby, you don't really want this to be over." he smoothly said, trying a new tactic. His hands squeezed her ass gently and suddenly, his touch was beginning to make her skin crawl. She moved her arms so she could try to push him away from her, shaking her head as she did,

"No, I really do." she shut him down, just wanting him out of her apartment. She was losing her patience. She wasn't even giving him hints anymore - she was plainly telling him that she wanted him out. He was just too stubborn to realize it.

His features hardened as he finally realized he was out of moves. His eyes darkened and his jaw clenched once more. He pushed himself away from her, whirling around and stalking over to the bed where his clothes were. He quickly dressed himself in a silent anger, a cloud of frustration and annoyance hovering over him.

"Fuck you, Q. You're not even worth it." he spat out as he shoved past her, "I've got plenty of other options out there." he continued.

"Oh, nice. Real mature." she shot back as she followed him out of the bedroom. There was a pang of hurt that shot through her chest at his comment that she ignored. He wasn't worth her time. He didn't respond, stomping over to the door and slamming it closed behind him.

The echo reverberated around her living room for a moment before a silence fell. She expected a weight to be lifted off of her shoulders; she had done it. Ended the sex-ationship and was now able to find something real and true. She should feel a little bit freer.

But instead of feeling a weight being lifted, she felt a new weight settling; she had done it. Ended the sex-ationship and who knew what would come of her decision. Rumlow could go tell everyone and anyone at SHIELD that the two had been having sex together. He could jeopardize everything she had worked so hard for. He could ruin her.

"Fuck." she whispered to herself before darting into her room to quickly dress herself. She had to catch him before he went back to the Triskelion and decided to take his revenge. He could be that guy - that guy who felt so butt hurt over a non-breakup break up that he would twist the story and use it to his advantage. Ending it was a mistake.

The morning was early so there was no one on the streets. Including Rumlow. She quickly scanned the surrounding area, trying to see if there was any sign of him. There wasn't. She let her shoulders slump down in defeat and felt the knot in her stomach grow bigger. It was no use - she would just have to wait until Rumlow said something to the wrong person. Then her carefully pieced together life would be over.

"Q!" she spun around at the sound of Cap's voice. He was walking toward her from the direction of the deli - two breakfast sandwiches in hand. Great. Of all the people to run into after ending a non-relationship. Still, she checked her watch, noticing that for as early was it was, it was time for her day to get started.

"Thanks for breakfast, Cap, but I'm not gonna come with you on your run today. I have to get to the Triskelion." she quickly said as he got to her, "I'll just see you there." her brain was moving - maybe she could intercept Rumlow at the Triskelion and make sure he knew not to say anything to anyone. She turned to go back inside her apartment building, but Cap followed after her.

"Is everything okay?" he asked her, obviously noticing her appearance and state of frazzled being.

"Yeah, of course." she gave him a tight smile from over her shoulder "Just running late." She continued to climb the stairs, hoping he would get the hint and leave.

"You? Never." he laughed a little bit and shook his head. She laughed a little in response, eyebrows raising and head tilting.

"It happens more often than you think." she mumbled out, knowing that she always put on the front of being someone who was always on time for everything when in reality she could be late for almost anything. She just had been trying really hard lately.

They got to her apartment and she opened the door, stepping inside and he followed after her, closing it behind him. He placed their breakfast sandwiches on the breakfast bar as she turned around to face him.

"Are you sure you're okay, Q?" he repeated his question carefully and she made eye contact with him, watching as he studied her.

"I'm fine." she shrugged noncommittally, almost impersonating how he acted with her whenever he had a bad day with Agent Carter. He stared at her for a moment longer before raising his eyebrows and glancing over his shoulder,

"I, uh, ran into Rumlow at the deli." he said casually, changing the subject as he looked back at her, "Is that why you're running late?" he asked, a knowing smile on his face. She grimaced at what he said, ignoring the same pang of hurt in her chest. He noticed and stopped short, the smile falling off his face, "What happened?" he asked, becoming concerned.

"Nothing." she shook her head. She paused, knowing she should probably just tell him so they could move on, "I just broke up with him." she played it off, not wanting to get into it with him. Even so, she found herself defining what she meant, "Well, not really broke up since we weren't in a relationship, but I...ended whatever it was that we were doing."

"Are you okay?" he asked - the question sounding like a broken record. She was beginning to understand how he felt whenever she asked him the same one.

"It's fine. He didn't take it well, but he's a dick so…" she shrugged.

"Jar." he raised his eyebrows at her, "And I know." she tried not to smile at his apparent dislike for Rumlow. He didn't not like a lot of people, but for some reason, Rumlow was at the top of his list. He just always told her it was a feeling he got from Rumlow - that he was untrustworthy.

"Listen, Q," he started, getting her to turn back to him, "I didn't have...well, really any breakups back in my day-"

"Jar." she cut him off, getting an unamused look from him.

"But I do know from first-hand experience that talking to someone does help." he continued, a teasing grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. She let out a low groan, squinting at him as he tried not to laugh at his own joke. If it were any other time, she would be over the moon at his confession; all she wanted to hear was that the talks were helping him rather than hindering - the graphs could only show so much.

"I'm fine, Cap, really." she assured him after taking in a breath and forcing a smile on her face, "I have to get going and you have to get to your run." he shook his head at her,

"I already went on my run." he said looking back at her, "We can talk about it."

"I don't want to." she said matter-of-factly, "Stop trying to turn the tables on me." she said defensively. He eyed her for a moment, hand going to rest on the back of the chair at the dining room table, other on his hip,

"Q, what happened?" he asked seriously. She made a face and shrugged,

"My love of rom-coms caught up with him." she deflected, getting him to roll his eyes. They had watched plenty of different rom-coms in the past few months that she thought it was a fine quasi-answer, but he didn't believe her.

"Come on, be serious."

"I am." she made a face and shrugged. He fixed her with a knowing look,

"If that was true, you would've changed your mind during Sleepless in Seattle." he referenced the movie they had watched a few weeks ago. She rolled her eyes, "So...are you gonna talk about it or keep pulling a me?" he asked, an easy smile on his face at the self-deprecating joke. Out of all the times to be self-aware and show her that he was making a huge amount of progress, he just had to choose this moment. She stared at him for a minute more and he repeated his question, "What happened?"

"You happened." she found herself admitting with a deep sigh. His eyebrows shot up and she quickly backtracked, "You and your stories about Agent Carter. God, the way you talk about her…" she looked at him, "You talk about her like she's the brightest star in the sky and you're just lucky to get a glimpse of her every so often." she gave him a sad smile. He straightened up, looking guilty.

"I'm sorry." he apologized immediately, making her laugh.

"Oh my God, Cap, you're such an idiot." she shook her head, "It's not a bad thing."

"It sounds like it might be." he took in a breath, hands going to settle at his hips.

"It's not." she assured him, "It's beautiful. And it just...made me realize that I want to talk about someone like that or have someone talk about me like that. I want to be someone's brightest star." she admitted, feeling very vulnerable in the moment, but still continuing; she couldn't stop, "So I broke up with him cause he's not gonna be that star. But - but now he's out there and he could tell literally anyone. It could get back to Fury and...I would be ruined."

There was a beat of silence and all of the sudden, she realized what she had just told him. How desperate she sounded. How...completely unprofessional she just was. She didn't mean to word-vomit all over him. There was still a line between the two of them, he didn't need to know any of that - hell, he already knew too much by just knowing about Rumlow. She pulled herself up and cleared her throat,

"Whatever, it's whatever." she shook her head, "All you need to know is that I ended it with him, okay, Cap?" He studied her for a moment before nodding once,

"Good. Never liked him anyway." Again, at his apparent dislike for Rumlow, she tried not to smile.

"You still have to answer to him, you know." she reminded him, pointing her finger at him.

"Actually, I don't. I'm leading the next op." he gave her a proud smile. She raised her eyebrows at that, not knowing that Fury had accepted her request of promoting him.

"That's great, Cap." she gave him a warm smile, "I'm happy for you." he grinned at her.

"Thanks, Q." he ducked his head down, hiding his smile. She reached out and gave his shoulder a little punch as she walked by to pick her breakfast sandwich up from where he had placed it on the breakfast bar.

He moved so he was on the other side, leaning his elbows on the breakfast bar as she opened up her sandwich. They ate their breakfast in silence for a few moments and she turned over what she admitted to him. It was a vulnerable, fleeting moment. She had seen it plenty of times on him, but it felt different when it was her turn. Was this how he felt? The graphs never showed that. She was nervous that he wouldn't take her seriously anymore. Sure, they were friends now, but that was a big leap, even for her. She had been set on holding him at arm's length, just like she did with everyone else - including Dawson.

But he didn't seem bothered by her little breakdown. Hell, he didn't even comment on it. Just started talking about the op he was going on in the next few days. She was grateful for the subject change.

Before they left for the Triskelion, he stopped her with a slight touch to her wrist. It wasn't like how Rumlow had grabbed her earlier in the morning. It was light and soft. She glanced down to see that he wasn't even holding her wrist, just brushing his fingers against her skin. Her eyes shifted from his fingers to his eyes, making eye contact with her.

"He's not gonna tell anyone, Q." he assured her. Her heart leapt to her throat and she swallowed hard before responding,

"You sure about that?" she asked. He nodded at her.

"And I'll make sure of it." he added, lifting his chin a bit. She pulled her face back and shook her head at his comment that sounded like a threat/promise,

"No, no, Cap, you can not say anything to him." she said seriously.

"I won't!" he lifted his shoulders up, "I'm just saying that if he happens to mention something, I'll make sure it won't get very far." she eyed him for a moment before scoffing and rolling her eyes.

"Okay, fine, whatever." she raised her hands up, knowing it was no use to try and dissuade him. She would just have to trust that Rumlow wouldn't be stupid enough to say anything and that Cap wouldn't be stupid enough to react.

"I got your back, Q." he stepped up next to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, "Cause if you go down, I won't have anyone to talk to." she laughed at him and stepped out from under his arm to see his amused smirk.

"God, we need to get you some more friends, Cap." she sighed, patting his chest, "Besides Dawson." she added on as an afterthought, turning to walk out of her apartment.

"Dawson is my friend?" he asked, brow furrowing as he followed her.

"Oh yeah." she laughed a little as she locked her apartment behind them. He pulled down the corners of his mouth and nodded to himself,

"I thought he hated me." he mumbled, getting another laugh from her.

"Fuck no. He's just trying to impress you." he laughed at her comment, continuing in the same breath with,

"Jar." he pointed at her as they headed for the stairs. She rolled her eyes at him. "For the record, it's a lot more fun being on the other side of this thing. I understand why you like it so much." he shot her a grin as they walked down the stairs.

"Don't get used to it." she laughed at him; if that morning had proved anything, it was that she hated being on his side of it.

As they stepped outside, she felt the weight finally lift off of her shoulders - turned out, she just needed to talk about it.


	21. it takes two to trust tango

There was some sort of rattling in the kitchen. He picked up his shield - which he had started keeping at his apartment after his first mission. Shifting into defensive mode, he crept around the corner only to immediately let the shield drop at the sight of Dawson rummaging through his cabinets. He let out a deep sigh, getting Dawson's attention and the SHIELD agent whirled around, giving him an easy smile.

"Hey, dude." he greeted Steve, "You really gotta start locking your door." he said as if it was Steve's fault that he was in his apartment. Steve placed his shield against the wall and stepped over to him. Dawson held his hand out for their handshake which Steve responded to, getting a proud grin from the SHIELD agent.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, relieved that it wasn't a threat but confused as to why Dawson was in his apartment.

"Uh, didn't you get Q's text?" Dawson asked back, brows furrowing. He didn't respond; he hadn't gotten her text. Or maybe he had. He hadn't checked his phone since he woke up.

He had finished his run to find Natasha waiting for him at the curb, citing something about how she was taking him to training. He figured he would meet Q there, but she hadn't shown up - which worried him until Natasha landed a hard gut punch to get him to focus. Then once he got back to his apartment, he showered and was just about to check his phone when he heard the front door open. He had automatically assumed it was Q, not Dawson, until he heard a man's voice let out a frustrated curse. Thus, the reason why he crept out of his bedroom in defensive mode.

"She had some sort of emergency. Told me to keep an eye on you for today." Dawson's explanation shook him out of his thoughts. Steve's brows furrowed as he watched him walk to the couch, flopping onto it with his hand digging into the box of Lucky Charms he kept in the cabinets for Q.

"An emergency?" Steve asked, hands on his hips, "Is she okay?"

"Yeah, it wasn't anything crucial. She's not dying or anything." he answered through a mouthful of cereal. Steve took in a breath and shook his head. He had a feeling he knew what it was about.

"I knew she was upset about Rumlow." he muttered under his breath, thinking Dawson couldn't hear him. He was wrong.

"What?" Dawson picked his head up from where he was resting on the couch so he could look over at Steve, "Woah, woah, woah-" he rolled himself off the couch, landing with a thump before quickly jumping to his feet, his hair flying out behind him, "Did you just say Rumlow? What happened with Rumlow?" he asked, hands up and out in front of him as he walked over to Steve. His brow furrowed; surely Dawson knew about Rumlow and Q's relationship. The two were friends.

"They broke up." he said as if Dawson should know such a thing - which he thought he did. But instead of reacting as Steve thought he would, Dawson went the complete opposite. His brow furrowed, like he was confused,

"Broke up? What do you mean: broke up?" he asked, not giving Steve time to respond as he answered his own question, "Like they were together? Were they together? No...Q would've told me...unless…" Steve watched as he looked away, staring at a spot in the ground as he mentally worked his way to the right answer he was looking for. Then he let out a sharp gasp, "They were fucking." Steve's skin started to heat up at the implication of the word, but before he could say anything else, Dawson stepped closer to him, "Oh my God, they were doing it in secret. Except you knew!" he pointed at him, "Fuck, you knew!" he laughed at him as if that was the best news he had heard all day, "Oh, Jesus." he ran his hand over his scruff, the laughter suddenly fading as he became serious.

"Did you not?" Steve asked, eyebrows raising as he sort of came to the conclusion that Dawson may have not known about Q and Rumlow.

"No!" Dawson laughed out almost incredulously, "Holy shit…" he trailed off, shaking his head, "Goddamnit. You know, we've been friends for almost ten years and there's still so much I don't know about her." Steve thought that was odd - she and Dawson came across as such close friends, but Dawson didn't even know everything about her. It seemed nobody really knew her, except herself.

"Wait, so that's not why she's not here?" Steve held up his hand to stop Dawson from saying anything else. Dawson glanced at him then shook his head,

"No, man, no, she had to go home last night. Family stuff, you know?" he asked, keeping the details light. Steve paused, noting how Dawson referenced her family. In the past three months, there had been no mention of her family. Steve was beginning to think she didn't have one - not in a humorous way, but like something bad had happened to them which was why she never talked about them. So he never asked. But clearly, they existed and she just chose not to tell him about them.

Steve nodded, glancing away from Dawson then back, a part of him suddenly remembering that she very specifically told him not to tell anyone about her and Rumlow or their nonbreakup break up. But in the moment, he thought that Dawson knew; again, why wouldn't he? Still, he had to make sure Dawson knew not to say anything that would make Q think he knew about her and Rumlow.

"Could you not mention that I told you about Rumlow to Q?" Steve found himself asking. Dawson's brow furrowed for a moment before he nodded, reaching out to pat Steve's shoulder as he walked by,

"Of course, man, yeah. Secret's safe with me." Steve relaxed a bit at his reassurance and turned to see where he was headed to. There was a duffel bag on the table that Steve had previously missed while dealing with Dawson's impromptu appearance but Dawson went over to it, opening it up as he did, "So, today I decided to introduce you to some things that you've missed out on that Q would probably never show you cause she's...very lame." he finished with a laugh. Steve had to disagree; he didn't think Q was lame.

He watched as Dawson pulled out a heavy looking box with buttons across the front and two matching controllers with bright buttons on either side. There were a lot of wires that he then plugged into the back of the television, setting up whatever he had brought.

"Captain...I'd like to introduce you to the magical world of video games." he turned on the tv and pressed the power button on the box he had plugged into the tv. Steve watched as the screen displayed whatever was inside the box. It looked like the menu that was on some of the DVDs Q had shown him, but different.

Going over to the couch, he settled down in the middle and picked up one of the controllers that Dawson had left on the coffee table. His eyes drifted over it and he noticed they were marked with different letters and there were two joysticks like from the arcade games along with four more buttons on the back.

Once Dawson set up the game, he sat down next to Steve and told him to just watch before he tried so he could see what to do. The menu screen went away and was replaced by an abandoned town of sorts. He could hear the sounds of other men who he couldn't see - only being able to see what was directly in front of the person Dawson was using. Then, all of a sudden, there was the loud, quick noise of a gun being shot over and over. Steve flinched at the sound, not realizing that whatever game Dawson was playing involved guns.

Glancing over at Dawson, he saw that he wasn't even fazed. Instead, there was a huge grin on his face as he pressed a few buttons, making the person move forward and shoot his own gun - the sound of the gun firing filling the room. Steve felt his grip on the controller tighten as his jaw clenched. He tried to block out the sounds of the different guns and explosions that mixed with Dawson's laughter. It wasn't real - it was just a game. His heart started to pound against his chest and he could feel his body start to heat up, involuntarily flinching every so often at the sound of bullets hitting someone in the game. They weren't real people - they were cartoons and the bullets weren't real. It was just a game.

"Hey, dude, are you okay?" Dawson suddenly asked. Steve realized that the game had gone quiet. There were no sounds involving guns or explosions or screaming. He slowly opened his eyes, only then realizing that he shut them, and was met with Dawson's concerned look.

"Yeah, yeah." he cleared his throat and looked down at his controller. Unclenching his hands from it, there were clear dents in the shape of his fingers. He took in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, blinking a bit as his vision cleared up.

"Is it the - is it the guns?" Dawson asked, still sounding concerned as he looked from the screen to him, "Fuck, it totally is. Shit, man, I didn't even think." he got up from the couch and went over to the box that held the game, "I should've. I mean PTSD, you fought in goddamn World War II, wow that was a terrible - I, shit." he stopped his rambling as he took out the game, the screen going to some sort of home menu screen.

Steve looked down to where Dawson was crouched in front of the box, rubbing his hand over his scruff and looking disappointed in himself. Q's voice echoed in the back of Steve's head - telling him that Dawson was just trying to impress him because he wanted to be friends. The video games had been his way to try to not only impress Steve but also try to bond with him.

Video games had to be what most guy friends did in this time. He wasn't used to it. Mostly cause he didn't have any guy friends in this time - hell, he was lucky enough to call Q a friend. What he and Bucky used to do included going to the movies or to the dance clubs. There were the big city wide events like the World's Fair or the World Exposition of Tomorrow fair. Other than that, they would walk around the city or hang out at each other's apartments with their families. But, as he relearned almost every day, times changed.

"It's alright." Steve spoke up, not wanting Dawson to feel bad for his mistake.

"Nah, man, it's my fault. Sometimes I don't think these things through all the way, you know?" he asked back, rummaging through his duffel for something else, "I forget that you're...you know...you." he looked over at Steve, giving him a half smile and nod. Steve blinked at him; no one ever seemed to forget that he was Captain America, lest tell him that they forgot. It was an odd feeling to be around someone who knew he was Captain America, but treated him as Steve Rogers. An odd feeling, but a good feeling.

"Okay, now first player shooter games are my favorite, but -" Dawson cut himself off at Steve's confused look, "The game I was just playing." he explained, the tone he most often used with Steve coming back - the one where he acted like Steve should know exactly what he was talking about. He was resettling after his mistake. He shook his head, hair flopping around as he settled back on the couch, "But since you're still dealing with some shit, we're gonna start off with something a little chiller." Every time Steve thought he understood the new lingo that came about, Dawson would remind him that he didn't. Using words like dope and chill. And the context clues never helped, but Q would try to explain them to him when they were going through his notebook.

Dawson taught him how to use the controller to move his character on the screen - or rather his car. It was some sort of racing game. And it took him a second to get the hang of it; it took a lot more hand-eye coordination than he expected. Plus, he kept forgetting that he was on the bottom screen and found himself looking down at the controller more than the screen itself. It was a lot more than the carnival games or games he and Bucky would play - none of them involved a screen anyhow.

Still, once he got the hang of it, he managed to win a race or two. He had a thought that Dawson was just being nice and letting him win, but his reactions proved him different. Steve found himself relaxing as he figured out the tricks of the game and soon he was joining in with Dawson's laughter and yelling at the screen when the car wasn't responding to what he wanted it to do. Dawson played with his whole body, leaning over when the car turned, or jumping to his feet when he was getting close to the finish line. Steve found himself copying him, leaning forward and using his foot like he was pressing on an imaginary gas pedal.

The two of them played Dawson's video games for a good amount of the day - staying away from any that involved guns or violence. Sure, he had watched movies with guns and violence in them (not in this time, but previously), but actually being the one to make the gun shoot or throw the grenade felt more realistic. It took him back to his World War II days, reminded him of all the violence he did, the compromises he and his team made that didn't make him feel so good. It was how he created his moral compass. Figuring out to do based on what would help the betterment of others regardless of the rules.

He lightly explained this to Dawson when he was rummaging through the duffel for another game. It got his attention and he nodded to himself as he looked back at the duffel, pulling a DVD out instead of another video game disc,

"Well, in that case," he loaded the DVD into the player, switching the display screens, "I think it's time to introduce you to some real movies. Not those cheesy rom-coms Q's been showing you." he scoffed out with a shake of his head.

Again, Steve had to disagree with Dawson. Sure, Q had shown him a lot of romantic comedies, but she had mixed in a few classic movies from time periods he missed while under the ice. There were some dramatic movies, a few historical ones and a couple cartoon movies. They never watched that one movie Dawson suggested but overall, it was a good mix of genres.

"What are we watching?" he asked as Dawson settled down on the opposite end of the couch.

"Only the best action movie of all time. First of five, but we don't talk about the fifth one." he glanced over to Steve with a serious look and Steve nodded in response, not really understanding but figuring it was the right answer. "It's got everything: action, drama, comedy - you know, technically it's a Christmas movie." he added on, "It's called Die Hard and it's the only movie that matters." he said matter-of-factly.

The title sounded pretty straight forward. People were going to die...hard. Dawson didn't do a great job explaining what it was about so Steve actually had to pay attention. Usually when he watched movies with Q, they were mild enough where he could just relax and watch it. He would jot things down in his notebook, not worried about missing anything important in the movie. But with Die Hard, he found himself shifting forward onto the edge of the couch; the action going on was intense.

While they watched it, he could hear Dawson saying some of the lines at the same time or acting out what was happening from his position on the couch - sound effects included. He had obviously seen this movie enough times to be able to quote it word for word. During certain scenes, he would reach over to smack Steve to make sure he was paying attention - watching his reaction the whole time. It was kind of hilarious and certainly just as entertaining as the movie itself.

At the end of the movie, Dawson looked at him expectantly, waiting for Steve's thoughts. He tilted his head to the side and raised his hand up, letting out a small laugh,

"Yeah, that was pretty good." he admitted. It was. He liked it. It was much different than the movies he watched with Q. And there was a lot more violence than he expected but it didn't feel as realistic as the video game Dawson had wanted him to play.

Dawson let out a relieved noise, falling back against the couch and letting his hands fall on his chest. He laughed a little and looked over to Steve, sitting back up and shuffling his hands through his hair,

"I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't liked it." he shook his head, "I don't think we would've been able to be friends, man." he let out a little laugh.

"Well, it's a good thing I liked it then, huh?" Steve responded with a slight smile at Dawson. He nodded, pleased with himself before patting his legs and getting up from the couch to go switch out the DVDs.

The rest of the day was alternated between watching movies and playing video games. They ordered pizza for their meals and Dawson gave him something called an energy drink that was way too sugary for him and made his heart feel like it was going to burst out of his chest. There were no talks or notepads or graphs - just two guys hanging out for the day. It felt like what a friendship should actually be.

It made him begin to question his friendship with Q. He thought he was friends with her. He called her Q, which was only what friends did. But hanging out with Dawson...made him feel like her and him weren't really friends at all. His friendship with Dawson was different than what he had with Q. With Dawson, it was like he was a normal guy, not some all American hero. He liked just being able to hang out with someone and not have to worry about keeping up appearances. But with Q, it felt more like a professional duty that just accidentally turned into a friendship. And he hated to admit it, but with Q, it felt like she was hiding something from him.

"Hey," Steve paused the game they were playing, getting Dawson's attention, "You said you've known Q for almost ten years, right?" he asked as Dawson reached for the bowl of popcorn, dumping a handful of it into his mouth,

"Uh, yeah, why?" he asked out of the side of his mouth. Steve shrugged,

"Just making sure I heard you right. You guys seem close." he treaded lightly, knowing what his end goal was but not wanting Dawson to catch on too early. He wanted to see if he could pull anything from Dawson to make his worry about Q hiding something from him go away.

"Yeah, man, I mean, she's probably my best friend." he nodded, "I told you they made us join at the same time, right?" he asked, glancing over at Steve. He shook his head - even though he did know that from Q, but he wanted to see what Dawson had to say about it. At his response, Dawson raised his eyebrows and leaned forward a bit, "Really? Well, man, let me tell you, the Q you know today is not the Q I knew." Dawson laughed as if there were some inside joke Steve wasn't in on.

"What do you mean?" Steve asked curiously, wanting to know more. She kept herself so closed off to him that he barely knew how old she was (he thought she had to be at least 28). But it seemed like Dawson was his in to finding out more about her.

"You know how she was taken out of jail and forced into the recruitment program at SHIELD, yeah?" he asked back. Steve struggled to contain his surprised reaction. He did not know about that. He couldn't even picture her in jail - if he was being honest, she just thought she appeared in the world, pantsuit and all. She just didn't fit the type who went to jail - what with the pantsuits and the professionalism. But still, he nodded, knowing that this was his way to gathering a little more information about his assigned SHIELD analyst - God knew when she was going to tell him.

"Right, well, obviously, she was not happy about it." Dawson continued, "I mean, first off she got caught. Then she was forced into working for a secret division of the government - the same government that threw her in jail in the first place." he laughed a little and shook his head, "Ironic, I know. And she was really against the whole recruitment thing at first - finding every opportunity to cause trouble. She would always try to escape where they put us...I think she got up to five or six escape attempts." he laughed again as if remembering a certain time.

"So what changed?" Steve asked, wondering what changed to turn her into the woman he was used to.

"Fury got to her." he answered simply, "Had some serious talk with her about why she was recruited. Started being her mentor. That's why they're so close." he added with a shrug, "And why she always wants to make sure she's impressing him." he reached for his energy drink, unpausing the game and getting back to the race they were on. Steve didn't pay attention, instead thinking about what Dawson had told him.

Seemed like he still had a lot to learn about Q.

The door slammed shut with a bang, getting Steve's attention from where he sat at the dining room table. A day had passed since he had hung out with Dawson and he was using his free evening to get ready for the SHIELD mission that was coming up. It was late, later than he had stayed up before. He had been going over intel that Kristen from Statistics had pulled for him. But he had been interrupted by Q storming into his apartment.

He hadn't seen her in the past two days; he finally checked his phone after Dawson had left him that night. She had texted him that she would be out of town for the following two days and Dawson would be checking in on him during the first, but he should use the next day to get ready for his mission. Which he was - until she so rudely interrupted him.

She wasn't wearing her normal skirt and shirt combo or even a pantsuit. Instead she was in a pair of ripped jeans and a old baseball tee. It was kind of startling; he had never seen her in jeans before, let alone ripped ones. She must've came straight from the train station, she looked incredibly normal. But her eyes were narrowed and her face was set. He immediately registered that as anger...but why was she angry? Was it directed at him? Or did someone cut her off in traffic again?

"How's your family-?" he started only for her to cut him off,

"Fuck my family! You told him!?" she yelled out, stomping over to him, finger pointed at him. He got up out of his chair, brows furrowing; he didn't know what she meant, "You told Dawson about Rumlow." she stated, explaining her previous accusation. His heart dropped to his stomach. Dawson had told her - even though he had specifically asked him not to.

"I told him not to tell you I did." he mumbled out, saying the first thing that came to mind, not even trying to defend himself.

"Yeah! Well, I told you not to tell anyone either, Cap!" she gave him an incredulous look, "Fuck, why would you do that!?" she asked, shaking her hands at him. He held his tongue on calling out her cursing; now was not the time.

"I thought he knew." he tried to explain himself, telling her the truth. She let out a frustrated groan, hands shoving through her hair.

"He didn't! Nobody knew, Cap! Except for you!" she cried out. She was extremely upset, eyes actually watering with tears - he had never seen her in this state before. She wasn't just mad, she was disappointed. In herself or in him, he wasn't sure. "I thought we were friends." she said seriously, giving him a look of betrayal as her arms crossed over her chest.

"Are we?" he asked feeling something snap inside of him, "Cause friends don't keep things from each other! It's not fair that you expect everything from me but don't give anything in return." he paused before continuing, "And for the record, you shouldn't be mad at just me." he said, not wanting all of the blame to be on him. He only told Dawson about Rumlow because he thought that was the reason for her emergency, not that it was something family related, then it snowballed into finding out more about her than he could've ever imagined, "You should be mad at Dawson too."

"Yeah! I am!" she yelled back, voice raising, eyes widening, "He shouldn't have told you about any of that - my family, my past - you didn't need to know about that!"

"Why not?" he asked back, a little surprised by her answer. "You were in jail, Q! And you didn't think that I should know that?"

"No!" she raised her shoulders up, "I was a stupid, fucking teenager and it's not who I am anymore!" she let out a huff, glaring at him but he could see that her facade was falling just a bit. Behind the glare, she looked almost...scared. He had never seen that before - he must've struck a nerve, "You didn't need to know, alright?" her voice was at a normal volume, but still sounded a little strained. She paused before adding, "And my family stuff wasn't something you needed to be worried about either." she said seriously. He let out a noise of disbelief, getting sort of frustrated with her,

"Wow, you just pick and choose who knows what about you, don't you, Q?" he asked, looking back at her, "No one knows the whole story."

"No one needs to!" she raised her voice again, lifting her shoulders up to her chin.

"Why? Because it's easier for you to protect yourself?" he bit out, eyebrows raising. It sounded familiar; it was exactly what he did before he met her. Held everyone at arm's length and refused to let anyone in. If he had a job, he'd focus on the job. No one needed to know about him or his past.

"Yes!" she answered immediately, getting another laugh of disbelief from him, "And you have no room to lecture me about this, Cap." she brandished a finger at him.

"Ironic, isn't it?" he asked, tilting his head at her, "You're the one trying to get me to open up about my life and my past and yet, I don't even know what your favorite color is!" he paused for a moment, "God, don't you trust anyone?" he asked her seriously, not meaning for it to come out, but it had. She met his eye, arms crossing over her chest again,

"I thought I could trust you." she admitted. He felt his heart sink even deeper into his gut. He always thought she trusted him; who wouldn't? Everyone trusted him. He was Captain America for gosh's sake. But she hadn't trusted him - or rather, she did for a moment, but he managed to erase that in about a minute.

Then, she took in a deep breath and pulled herself together - fixing him with that warm, tight smile he hated so much, "It's late. I should go." she said curtly, all signs of any emotion gone. He swallowed tightly, not wanting her to leave, but not knowing how to make her stay so they could resolve their argument. Choice words were exchanged out of frustration and now they had to deal with it.

She turned away from him, heading for the door and slamming it just as hard as she did when she entered. He stood there for a moment before realizing he should probably go after her. He wanted to explain himself, tell her he was sorry - it wasn't her fault. He shouldn't have said anything to Dawson or tried to pull anything out of him regarding her past.

But when he stepped out into the hallway, there was no sign of her. He put his hands on his hips, letting out a defeated sigh. Then, the door next to him opened and Kate poked her head out of the space, looking concerned.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, leaning her head on the edge of the door. He paused, waiting for his mind to slow down so he could give her a proper answer, but she continued before he could, "I heard yelling and the door slamming - is everything okay?" she repeated her question. He forced himself to nod, letting out another sigh,

"Yeah, yeah, I just uh...got into an argument with a friend." he plainly put it, not wanting to get into the details. Kate's expression turned into a sympathetic one.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she offered. He looked at her and slightly shook his head; he already had someone he talked about these things to and she had just went storming out of his apartment.

"No, no, but thank you for offering." he politely declined. She gave him a small smile,

"Alright, if you need to talk, I'm here." she paused, "And if you need something stronger, I'm also here. With whiskey." she gave him a slight grin, trying to break the tension. He forced a laugh out of his chest and a smile on his face.

"Thank you, Kate." he nodded at her and she gave him another smile before ducking back into her apartment.

Shuffling back into his apartment, he walked over to the kitchen window. He figured he might have already missed Q walking away, but he wanted to see. When he glanced out the window, he saw that she was still outside of the building, standing under the street lamps and turning in a slow circle like she was trying to calm herself down. He watched her for a moment until she faced his window and looked up, catching him in the act.

When they made eye contact, she stopped in her tracks. He knew he should move but he felt frozen in place. He had never been caught watching her walk away and it wasn't like he did it often. Just from time to time. Still, she didn't know that. She raised her arms up at him in an exasperated manner - the angry look appearing on her face once more before she spun on her toe and stomped up the block toward her apartment.

Swiping her hand against her face, Q pushed back the flyaway hairs that were blocking her vision as she stomped away from his apartment. God, she was so angry at him. She should've never told him about Rumlow or the non-breakup break up.

She shouldn't have trusted Cap with something so personal. She had trusted him on a professional level: to show up for his meetings and appointments, tell her the truth and not keep things from her. But it wasn't until she talked to him about Rumlow that she thought she would be able to trust him with more personal details about her life. Apparently, she thought wrong. And thanks to Dawson, he now knew much more than she ever wanted him to.

A long time ago, she decided that she was going to let the past stay in the past. No one would know about what she kind of trouble got into or what she not so great things she did. The only reason Dawson had any clue at all was because he was there at the beginning of the SHIELD recruitment, watching as she went through all the stages before finally settling on acceptance. No one else was supposed to know. Especially not Cap.

Being too angry to walk, she sat down on the curb in front of the deli with a huff. Her breath was coming in short, fast paces from the combination of the exercise and her emotions. She rested her elbows on her knees and covered her face with her hands, wanting nothing more than to burst out into frustrated tears. She took in a couple deep breaths, moving her head to the side, her hands pushing her hair back away from her face as she looked down the street, trying to get her emotions in check.

The chime on the deli door got her attention, but not enough to make her look over her shoulder. Whoever the customer was would just walk by her. But instead of walking by her, whoever walked out of the deli settled down on the curb next to her with an exaggerated groan.

"Thought that was you." she looked over to see Albert shifting on the concrete as he tried to get comfortable. His apron was stained with a day's worked and he smelled of deli meats and pickles but she didn't mind, "Would recognize that head of hair anywhere." he greeted her and she moved so that she was pressing down her waves with her hands, elbows planted on her thighs, giving him a small smile "Now, why are you sitting out here, alone, in the dark?" he got straight to the point, giving her a pointed look. His white hair shone under the streetlights and she sighed, looking out across the street.

"Oh, you know just hanging out. People watching." she made up an excuse with a shrug, making a face as she did.

"There's no people." he pointed out.

"I didn't say I was good at it, Al." she glanced to him and he gave her a knowing smile.

"What's on your mind, sweetheart?" the older gentleman asked with a slight nudge of his elbow into her side, "You don't just sit on the curb cause it's comfortable." she laughed a little and raised her eyebrows at him,

"It's actually very comfortable. You just have an old butt." she volleyed back, deflecting the question. Albert chuckled and shook his head,

"You're stubborn, you know that?" he shook his finger at her, "Which can be a good thing, but it can be a bad thing too." he gave her a serious look, "Could make ya push people away without even realizing it." Her brows furrowed at that, not understanding what he meant. He noticed, taking in a breath and shaking his head a little, "Here I am, trying to help you work through whatever it is you're going through that's makin you sit on my curb like an upset toddler, and you're over here trying to crack jokes." he gestured to her with a slight smile, "And they're terrible, really." she rolled her eyes at him.

"Well, then I guess I'll just get off your curb then." she pushed her hands against her thighs, going to get up, but Albert stopped her,

"Hold on, hold on, missy." he pulled her back down with one hand, waving at her with his other, "You're not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on." he fixed her with a serious look. She looked down at her nails, picking at her nail bed for a moment before answering him,

"Have you ever thought you could trust someone so you told them something important and then they just completely betray you and tell someone who shouldn't have known?" she grumbled out, raising her eyebrows at the end of her question, feeling herself get mad again. "And then you just wanna -" she raised her hands up and curled her fingers over, making a noise as she pretended to choke someone.

"Did they do it on purpose?" Albert asked. Her eyes shifted over to him quickly before she looked back at her nails,

"Sure seems like it." she mumbled out.

"Sure, now it does, in the moment, but think back." he urged, "Is this person the type of person who usually betrays people?" She took in a breath and shook her head. Cap wasn't the type that was being described. And neither was Dawson - but she currently wasn't as mad at Dawson as she was at Cap,

"Alright, now listen here, little lady," Albert shifted closer to her and she pulled her gaze from her nails to his eyes, "I'm gonna give you some advice. Now, it's coming from an old Jewish man, so you know it's good, okay?" she nodded, a quick grin breaking out across her face before she became serious, matching Albert's serious expression. He let a moment pass before speaking again, "It takes two to do the trust tango." he said, with a slight raise of his eyebrows. There was a beat and then Q let out a small bout of laughter, pulling away from him and shaking her head.

"I trust you." she responded firmly, getting a laugh from Albert.

"To make your sandwiches." he added on, shaking his head slightly, "You've lived on this block for six - seven years and that's all I know about you." she groaned and shook her head, not believing that for a second, "Q, sweetheart, seriously...you can't be afraid to let people in. You're gonna get hurt. That's just a fact of life. You can't build a wall high enough or thick enough to stop it from happening. And then the problem with that wall is that you may have protected yourself from any outside threats, but you also locked yourself behind it. You've created your own prison." he explained. She held back her flinch at the word prison and nodded at him, rolling her lips in and looking down at her lap.

He was right. She had a mighty big wall surrounding herself. Her past. Keeping people from finding out anything that could be used against her in order to take away the life she had tried so hard to make for herself despite the things she had done. She knew she had been a little too professional with Cap, but...fuck, just how much damage had she done to their friendship by continuing to hide behind her wall. Even though she said they were friends, how much did she actually act like it?

"Now, are you mad because you told the person whatever it was or are you mad that the person knows?" Albert continued, shifting gears a little bit. She looked over at him, realization dawning rather quickly. She wasn't even mad. She was...scared. She was afraid that once Cap knew more about her past, he wouldn't want to be friends with her anymore. That he wouldn't like her anymore. Hell, he was the first real friend she had made within SHIELD who wasn't Dawson. She couldn't risk losing him.

Albert reached over to take her hand in his, getting her attention once more, "Here's what you need to do, okay? Create a window." he suggested, "Let someone look through it to see what's on the other side of that wall. And then maybe one day...a door." he raised his eyebrows up at her. She took in a deep breath, not realizing that she hadn't been breathing while he had been talking to her.

"Okay." she agreed, voice small.

She started to think back to her earlier conversation with Cap - remembering how when she mentioned they were friends, he shot her down. And he was right, they weren't actually friends. For so long she had tried so hard to become friends with him and when she finally felt they were there, he proved to her that they weren't. They didn't hang out and talk like friends did or do anything just for fun. It was all about the progress and not about the development.

Albert was right, it did take two to trust tango. She was already someone Cap trusted, but she needed to be able to trust him too. She needed to make a window. Let him see inside - he had trusted her enough to do that with her and his wall was even bigger and stronger than hers. She should be able to do the same for him.

"I have to go." she said suddenly, pulling her hand from Albert's, "But thank you, Al, seriously." she got to her feet, reaching down to help him up, "You won't be seeing me sitting on your curb any time soon, I promise." she gave him a small smile and he returned it.

"I'm glad I could help, sweetheart." he nodded at her, patting her cheek with his hand in a grandfatherly way, "I'll see you in the morning. Black coffee and a bran muffin, right?" he teased and she let out a groan, rolling her eyes at him.

"Goodnight, Al." she droned out before walking away from him and down the block toward Cap's apartment.

Knowing it was late and knowing that he liked to go to bed early, Q knocked on the door of his apartment instead of walking in like she usually did. She waited for a moment, glancing around herself as her stomach knotted up. She was nervous, but it was the right thing to do. She already knew so much about him - she could tell him a thing or two about herself.

The door opened and she looked back to see him standing in the doorward, already in his pajamas. She paused, realizing that he was probably in bed and she had just woken him up.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you, Cap." she said, noticing his slightly confused look, "I know it's late. I can just...come back tomorrow. Talk to you tomorrow." she rambled slightly before shutting her mouth. She never got like this around him or at least hadn't in a long while.

"No, no it's okay." he answered with a slight shake of his head, "I'm glad you're here, come on in." he invited her into his apartment and she stepped past him, hearing him close the door behind him, "Listen, Q, I'm really sorry I told Dawson." he started as she turned around to look at him, "I honestly thought he knew." she held up her hands, stopping him from explaining himself any further,

"I know, I know. It's okay." she accepted his apology and also found that she forgave him too. Her talk with Albert made her realize that it wasn't him that she was mad at, but herself. She had tried to keep him from only know who she was presently, like she had with everyone else and it backfired on her. She had to answer to that, not him.

"I just came to say that I'm sorry." she continued, "You're right. I pick and choose what I tell to certain people. It's just...easier, I guess."

"Trust me, I know." he gave her a reassuring smile, "You're talking to the poster child for keeping people at arm's length."

"More like poster grandpa." she teased, tilting her head to the side and making him groan. She laughed a little and then shook her head, "What I'm trying to say is that I need to take my own advice. Deal with my past instead of just shoving it back there and trying to forget about it." He nodded at her, as small, understanding smile on his face,

"Listen, I get it if you need time, but you can't be my friend and shut me out completely." he pointed out seriously. She nodded quickly, agreeing with him,

"I do want to be friends with you. And I thought we were. But apparently, my definition is different than one from the 1940s." she gestured to him and he scoffed and rolled his eyes. A small, proud grin peeked out as she noticed his reaction, "No, I know and I'm going to try to be more open with you." she promised, "I'm not making any promises about how quick I'll let you in but…" she paused for a moment, "My favorite color is a soft yellow." she gave him a little grin. He rolled back on his heels, arms crossing over his chest as he considered her answer.

"A soft yellow…" he repeated slowly, looking off to the side, "I can work with that." he looked back at her with a soft smile.

"Good." she responded; she could work with it too.


	22. laundry night

She was surrounded by paperwork. Self-given, yes, but necessary paperwork. After debriefing Cap from the second op he led, she had decided to stay late at the Triskelion - wanting to get ahead on the packets for Friday's Fury meeting. It was a complicated task, remembering who knew what and who needed to know certain things or didn't. She personally redacted some and added footnotes for others, organized them by section and by subsection - each having its own tab. Even though she had been making the packets for months now, it still took up a lot of her time so she always tried to get ahead of it when she could.

Not even a knock on her door could make her look up from her organizing. She figured it was just Dawson coming to annoy her. She usually didn't mind his distractions, but he wasn't her favorite person at the moment and she was set on getting the packets done early.

"I don't have time for your shit, Dawson." she droned out, flipping through the packet she was working on and scraping her Sharpie over the sentences that needed to be redacted.

"Oh wow, suit," a voice that clearly did not belong to Dawson answered, "I thought you two were friends." she quickly looked over at the door to see Agent Romanoff leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest. She was dressed in her plain clothes, but there were a few cuts and scrapes across her face from the op. Cap had told her it had been a little bit tough, but they had managed to take care of what Fury asked them to do.

Q quickly brushed back loose hairs from her face, sitting up a bit straighter as her face heated up with embarrassment. She stuttered, trying to come up with a response or explanation, but her brain and mouth felt disconnected. Agent Romanoff noticed, giving her an easy, amused smile before pushing off the door frame and walking into her office. At the action, Q tried to shuffle her papers around, wanting to keep them organized but also make room for the SHIELD agent.

Agent Romanoff flopped into the chair across from her side of the desk, legs dangling off the armrest with her back pressed up against the other armrest. She glanced over the items on the desk, Q keeping her eyes down and trying to make her brain and mouth work at the same time again. She cleared her throat, tucking her hair behind her ears - even though it was tied back in a ponytail and then rested her elbows on the desk,

"Is there something I can help you with, Agent Romanoff?" she asked, regaining a sense of professionalism. Agent Romanoff shrugged, glancing around her office,

"Just wanted to come see what it was like down here." she paused before looking back at Q, scrunching up her features a bit, "Depressing, yeah?"

"...a little." she answered hesitantly, not knowing what Agent Romanoff was getting at. It seemed nothing since the conversation stopped there. She continued to look around the office once again, gaze pausing a few items here and there. Again, Q cleared her throat, not knowing why, but just feeling like she trusted her voice a bit more when she did, "Are you doing okay? After the op? You look a little…" she motioned to her own face indicating the bruises and cuts that were on Agent Romanoff's face.

"You should see the other guy." she smirked at her.

"Right, yeah." Q nodded, glancing down at her lap and not really knowing what else to say.

Her and Agent Romanoff didn't really have a relationship. They were barely co-workers. She only saw the agent during Cap's training sessions. They didn't really talk either. The only time Q had reached out to her willingly was during her family emergency the previous week. Otherwise, the two relied on Cap to bridge their relationship. She had no clue why Agent Romanoff was in her office and had an underlying fear that something was wrong.

"You're freaking out, aren't you, suit?" Agent Romanoff asked, getting her attention and letting her see the amused smile on her face.

"Uh, yeah, yes." she quickly responded, then shook her head, "I mean, can you blame me? We don't...interact." she said, waving her hand in the space between them, trying to ignore her ever growing smile, "Did something happen on the op that I should know about?" she asked, trying to shift back into her professional headspace and stop freaking out about why Agent Romanoff was sitting in her office.

"Nope, no. I, uh, think Steve probably covered all of it in the debrief." she shook her head slightly, making the curtain of red hair sway from side to side. The casual use of his first name would never fail to make Q clench just a bit. It was always out of respect that she didn't call him that; even if they were friends, she still wanted to keep things at least semi-professional, "I actually came down here to just tell you that I think you're doing a really good job. With Steve." she added on with a slight smile that looked almost genuine.

"Oh, uh, thank you." Q was thrown off. She hadn't expected that and especially hadn't expected it from Agent Romanoff of all people. Agent Romanoff nodded at her, swinging her legs over the arm of the chair so she was sitting normally. She leaned forward, elbows resting on her thighs and her face became serious,

"He's much less uptight than when we worked together in New York. I mean, he's still...well, you know." she gestured to Q, "But he seems to feel like he's a bit more comfortable than he was before. And I think that's all thanks to you."

"No, no I didn't do anything. I just talked to him." she sliced her hand through the air, trying to downplay it and not take all the credit; she may have had all her graphs and binders and talks with him but at the end of the day, he was the one who made the conscious decision to move forward.

"Well, whatever you said to him seemed to stick, suit." she opened and then closed her hands together, raising her eyebrows up slightly, "Maybe we could try it out sometime."

"Oh, I'm not licensed or anything like that -" she tried to say; she wasn't. Honestly, she wasn't even sure she was supposed to be telling Cap half the things she was. Most of her methods were based on pure research or personal experiences. She wasn't a trained professional therapist in the slightest.

"Doesn't matter." Agent Romanoff cut her off and shrugged, "Could always use a friend to talk to." she gave her a warm smile and Q froze for a moment.

"I'm sure you have plenty of friends, Agent Romanoff." she felt the back of her neck heating up at the thought of being friends with Agent Romanoff. Not that it was a bad thing - just unexpected and kind of terrifying; out of all the people in the world, in SHIELD, Agent Romanoff wanted to be her friend?

"Maybe." she answered with a shrug, "And it's Nat." she said, getting up from her chair and giving her a grin. Q blinked at her, not really understanding what was happening, but it didn't seem to be bad. Agent Romanoff - Nat, moved to leave, pausing for a moment to look back at Q, "He trusts you, suit. Which means I trust you." she said seriously before knocking on the doorframe and then walking out of her office, leaving Q to figure out what the hell just happened.

She didn't get a lot of time; just as Nat left, Dawson came ambling in - a confused look on his face. He glanced over his shoulder and then threw his thumb over his shoulder,

"Uh, what was Nat doing in your office?" he asked before bracing both his hands on either side of the doorframe and leaning forward. She noted how he called her Nat as well and wondered if that was a friend thing too or just a Dawson thing.

"Nothing, just wanted to talk about Cap." she shook her head, trying to get back into what she was doing and ignoring Dawson, "I'm actually pretty busy, so make it fast."

"Yeah, cool, just wanted to see if you wanted to get out of here."

"I'm busy." she repeated, making eye contact with him and keeping her voice level. She was still a little angry with him for betraying her trust so easily to Cap and telling him about her past.

They had gotten into a huge fight over the phone the night she had her fight with Cap. Dawson had called her on the train ride back to DC, going on and on about how Cap told him about her sex-ationship with Rumlow. Then she had found out that he had told Cap about her family and her past. Cue the serious tones and the low voices that were much scarier than the yelling.

When she had gotten back to the Triskelion, Dawson seemed to realize that he had fucked up and had stayed out of her way for the past week, wanting to give her space to get through it. But in the past few days, he was trying a bit more to interact with her.

"Q, come on." he relaxed, letting his arms fall so he could step into her office, "I'm trying here."

"Yeah, and I'm busy." she repeated, going back to her packets. She heard him let out a heavy, annoyed sigh.

"I'll wait." he said matter of factly before slumping down into the chair that was across from her desk. She eyed him for a moment before looking back down at her packets.

He began to tap his fingers against the armrests, his mouth joining in to help out with the rhythm. She looked over at him with an unamused look. He pulled an innocent face, stopping for a moment until she looked back down and then starting up again. This went on for the next several minutes until she had enough,

"Oh my god." she groaned, "Fine." she organized her packets up, ignoring his victorious smile. She would finish her packets later.

Dawson got up from his chair, shaking out his limbs as he waited for her to get her things together. She made sure all her packets were clipped together and placed them in her messenger bag before pulling it over her chest. Checking her watch, she realized it was later than she realized it was.

"Where's Cap tonight?" he asked as they walked out of her office, "Don't you guys have to have your talk?"

"He just came back from an op." she reminded him, "We debriefed and I figured he did enough over the past few days so I let him go. I'll see him in the morning."

"Oh, yeah, Nat said the op got a little messy." Dawson nodded to himself, getting her to do a double take.

"Nat said, hm?" she questioned, raising her eyebrows up, a slight, knowing grin on her face, "So you two hung out today? How often does that happen?" He glanced over at her, then quickly looked away, shaking his head as he let out a little laugh.

"It's not like that." he shot her down.

"Uh-huh, sure. Says the guy who told me he had a crush on her." she nudged him with an amused grin on her face. He rolled his eyes, shoving his hands into his pockets and continuing to shake his head, but didn't answer her - making her change the subject, "Alright, so what are we doing tonight?" she asked, hands going to grip the strap of her messenger bag, "I mean you practically dragged me out of my office, you have to have some sort of plan, right?" He clenched his teeth together and pulled a face as he pulled his hands out of his pockets so he could tap his fists together.

"About that…" he trailed off. She rolled her eyes and her head back, letting out a groan, "I didn't think you'd actually say yes! Your resolve is wearing down, you know, you gotta work on that. You used to be so good at saying no to me and what? All it took this time was some light annoyance? Jesus, Q, get it together." he turned it around so that the blame fell on her, per usual. "You're usually the planner in this friendship, alright? Not my fault." he raised his hands up and she shook her head at him.

"Then I guess we're doing laundry." she responded, stepping into the elevator with him. He groaned, already ready to complain,

"No, you know how much that place freaks me out." he started, looking pained.

"Only because they don't have WiFi." she pointed out as the elevator pulled them down to the garage level.

"Uh, yeah," he made his eyes wide, shoving his hands into his pockets as if it were the most normal thing to be upset about, "What twenty-first century business doesn't have WiFi?" he scoffed, squinting a bit as they walked off the elevator to their cars.

"I'll see you there." she responded, choosing not to ignore his rhetorical question. He lazily waved his hand at her, stopping at his Tesla as she continued to where she had parked her car.

Thirty minutes later, she managed to slip into Ginny's Wash House - the door being too heavy to open while also balancing a large laundry basket against her hip. But she got inside. She went over to one of the empty rows of machines, glancing around to see who else was doing their laundry this late at night. It was mostly worn out looking nannies or shady looking people. Before getting to Ginny's, she changed out of her SHIELD clothes and into a pair of ratty jeans and an old Coney Island Fair t-shirt, not wanting to draw attention to herself and wanting to blend in with the rest of the patrons.

The laundromat wasn't the cleanest laundromat in the area, but it was the cheapest. Usually it was pretty busy toward the end of the week but Wednesday nights were the sweet spot. She had stumbled upon it one night when the washer and dryers in her building had broke. Dawson started accompanying her a few months later when the same thing happened to him.

Even though they didn't always go together, it could be considered a tradition because of how often they did go together. She would always pack a six pack for them to split and a deck of cards to entertain themselves with while they waited for their laundry to rotate through. It was where most of their more serious conversations happened.

The bell above the door chimed, alerting her to someone's entrance. She glanced over to see Dawson walking in, pulling in his laundry bag behind him. He dramatically made his way over to her, making a point in every one of his steps as if the bag was too heavy for him to pull behind him. She rolled her eyes at him as he lifted it up onto the table at the end of the row of washers she had claimed for them. He let out a huff and shook his hair out of his face, pretending to wipe away sweat from his brow. Giving him an unamused look, she took the hair tie off of her wrist and handed it to him.

"Gracias." he sighed out before gathering half of his hair back away from his face and tying it back in a small bun so it was out of his face.

Turning back to her laundry, she started to separate her darks and lights and reds into three different machines. Next to her, Dawson split his laundry in half and divided it into two washers, not caring about the colors or the washing directions of his clothes. She had learned a long while ago not to comment on it because it was no use - he wouldn't change.

Once she put her quarters in and started her washers, she joined him in the bright blue plastic chairs by the windows. He stretched out across three, leaving her to settle on the end, pulling a knee up as she turned to face him. She tossed him a beer and cracked open one of her own, taking a deep chug of it before setting it down on her thigh.

"So. You and Nat." she got straight to the point, making Dawson groan. He squinted at her, waving his beer in the air as he leaned against the wall he was propped up against.

"Let it go, Q. Nothing happened."

"Do you want something to happen?" she asked, raising her eyebrows up a bit. He paused before taking in a huge breath and then letting out a loud burp,

"Yeah, I guess, but it's whatever, you know?" he shrugged, "I mean, look at how well it worked out for you and... Brock." he gave her a shit-eating grin as he referred to Rumlow, making her grimace.

"Please don't use his real name." she held her beer up, shaking her head slightly, "God." she shivered slightly. Dawson laughed to himself, looking at his beer before taking another swig of it,

"It wasn't like...fucking serious, was it?" he asked, still talking about Rumlow. She scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Fuck no." she shook her head, "No, it was just a...co-workers with benefits." she summed up before taking another sip from her beer. "And I'm still pissed that you know that it happened, Dawson. No one was supposed to know."

"Oh, alright, well, I'm pissed you didn't tell me." he shot back, making a face and raising his arms up, "And no one was supposed to know? Bullshit. You told Cap." she opened her mouth to explain but he cut her off, "I mean I had to hear about it from Captain America. You should've seen his face when I said fucking. Dude's like a poster boy for celibacy." She let out a snort, covering her mouth with her free hand as she tried not to laugh at the imagery.

"Okay, okay, give him a break." she calmed down her friend by motioning with her beer, feeling a little bad for making from of him behind his back, "He's from a different time." she said, voice still colored with a little bit of laughter.

It was true. He probably didn't mind the cursing - what with being in the Army, but it was more the use of the word than anything else. He told her point blank what he thought fondue was code for and it was very clear that he didn't really have any experience when it came to the sexual side of relationships - just from the way he reacted at certain things.

Dawson rolled his eyes but did as he was told, sighing heavily. The two were quiet for a moment, either staring at their beer or drinking from the can,

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, brow knitting together, "I would've judged, yeah, but I wouldn't have told anyone." he pointed to himself with the beer can. She raised her shoulders up, taking in a breath,

"You don't tell me about the girls you're fucking." she said simply.

"You...think I'm fucking girls?" he asked back, looking both confused and surprised. She couldn't help but laugh at his answer. He kept the same expression, not knowing how to respond to her and she couldn't tell if he was serious or not, so she moved on.

"I don't know." she continued, pairing it with a shrug and knowing it was the truth.

In all honesty, she couldn't remember why she hadn't told him. It had started such a long time ago, she had just gotten used to it being a secret and the more time that passed, the more risk there was of it getting out. Especially once she started working so closely with Cap. Then all of a sudden it was over. She had made the conscious decision to end it, yes, but it felt so sudden that even thinking about it made the same familiar pang shoot through her chest. The same pang she had felt when Rumlow stalked out of her apartment that morning.

"Are you okay, Q?" he asked, looking sort of concerned. It was a weird look on him - one she rarely ever saw in its genuine form.

"Yeah, of course." she furrowed her brow, playing it off and looking down at her beer can. Then she took in a breath, deciding to admit to it, "I guess I'm more upset about it than I thought."

"No shit." he responded, eyebrows raising up. She let out a sad laugh and rolled her eyes, not wanting to cry in front of him or in the laundromat of all places, "Please don't cry." he said seriously, like he read her mind, "I can't handle that." she let out another sad laugh and wiped her eyes with her hand before any tears could escape. Looking back at Dawson, she saw that he still looked concerned but also a little disgusted at the thought of her crying.

"Alright, alright." he shifted in his seat so he could wrap his arms around her in an awkward, but kind of loving hug, "He's a dick, Q, we knew this before you sucked it." She laughed and it sounded a little less sad than the other times.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." she agreed as he hugged her for a moment more before sitting back and clasping her cheeks with his hands.

"You deserve someone who'd carry the toolbox, not be the tool in there." her brows furrowed in confusion at his comment; she didn't get it at all.

"What is it with you and your weird little sayings tonight?" she asked, making him raise his shoulders up.

"I don't know! You're emotional! It clearly makes me do and say weird things." he defended himself, making her laugh a little.

"See this is why I do the talking." she pointed out, trying to make a joke. He patted her cheeks and gave her a small smile in agreement before returning to his previous position and picking up his half-finished beer. He had tried to comfort her in his own and and weirdly, she had to admit that it kinda worked.

Apparently, her nonbreakup break-up did hurt her - she lost someone who had been a constant in her life for almost two years. Sure it was just sex, but it was still something with someone. Didn't matter how deep it was.

By the time they moved on to folding their freshly washed and dried clothes, their empty beer cans were in the trash and they were the only two left in the laundromat. Dawson was on one side of the table while Q was on the other. She had a specific method where he was just barely not balling his clothes up and tossing them into the bag.

"Hey," he started, getting her attention as she folded one of her shirts, "I'm sorry about telling him about...you know." he motioned to her with his jeans. She knew what he was talking about - how he had told Cap about some of her past before SHIELD, "Since you guys talk about literally everything, I thought he knew." She gave him an understanding smile, the words sounding familiar; Cap had said almost the same thing the week before when he was apologizing to her for telling Dawson about Rumlow.

"It's alright." she forgave him with a casual shrug, "What's done is done." she sighed out before reaching for another shirt.

"Have you talked about it with him?" he asked, probing a little deeper. She shook her head,

"No, he only knows what you told him." she smoothed down the shirt she folded before putting it in her basket, "He doesn't need to know anything more."

"And he's okay with that?" he asked, giving her an unconvinced look. She looked up from her folding, noticing it and giving a shrug,

"Yeah, unless he said something to you about it." he shook his head,

"Nope, we don't talk about you anymore. Part of the bro-code." he responded, acting as if they hung out on a daily basis - which they didn't, only talking when they passed each other in the Triskelion, "Mainly we just talk about Die Hard." he answered with a shrug, getting her to scoff and roll her eyes,

"Yeah, great job on that one. He's been obsessed with action movies lately." she grumbled, annoyed that she had to watch three different Mission Impossibles in one day. He gave her a cheeky grin,

"Maybe I'll show him Saw the next time we hang out." he said, fully knowing her aversion to horror movies.

"Don't you dare." she pointed at him with her shirt before unfurling it and folding it the normal way. He laughed at the thought and she knew it was only a matter of time before he found some way to watch the horror movie with Cap.

"How's the fam?" he asked, switching topics and surprising her a bit - she figured he wouldn't bring them up but apparently their laundry night was all about her. She took in a deep breath and then let out heavily.

"Fine. Surprised. Angry. Sad. More angry. Take your pick." she raised her eyebrows up, feeling herself getting frustrated again over something that didn't really matter - or shouldn't at least. Her family wasn't some of her biggest fans. Mostly because of the lengths she had to go to since she was in SHIELD, the lies she had kept up the past several years. So when she returned home, she wasn't welcomed with open arms.

"I'm sorry." Dawson lamely said in an attempt to make her feel better. She made a face, shaking her head but not verbally responding as she played it off.

"Whatever. It's fine. I don't have to see them ever again." she bit out, keeping her eyes focused on her laundry. It was true. The only person in her family who truly cared about her - her grandmother, was gone so she had no reason to ever return to her family's home again.

When all their laundry had been folded, the two of them went their separate ways. She watched him try to stuff his giant laundry bag into the backseat of his Tesla, grunting and throwing his whole body weight against it. Laughing to herself, she slid her basket into her backseat of her car before getting in and starting back to her apartment.

During her drive home, she felt a little better than she had; she and Dawson were finally back on track. Besides making up after their fight, they talked about other things: like his super secret project ( thought that was a short conversation), her upcoming progress reports and general topics. It was nice to know that they were back on the same page. She couldn't lose her best friend.

Once parked in a free space near her apartment, she started to walk back to her building, using both hands to carry her laundry basket, her arms already screaming in pain from the weight. As she got closer to her apartment, she saw someone walking toward her. They were still a few paces away from her so she wasn't worried, hoping they would just pass her with a slight nod and leave her alone.

Except it wasn't just anyone.

"Cap?" she asked out, stopping in front of her building as he passed under one of the streetlamps, giving her a good look as to who it was. He lifted his head up then pushed the hood of his zip up sweatshirt back. He was dressed as if he was going on a run...in the middle of the night.

"Hey, Q." he answered her with an easy smile, hands going to ball into the pockets of his sweatshirt. Ever since their fight, things had settled back into how they were before - just a lot better than how they were. And, just as she promised, she had been a little more open with him and it was clear that he was reacting positively to it. He truly thought of her as a friend now rather than a professional who just became a friend on accident or out of necessity.

"It's waaaaay past your bedtime." she joked, having seen the time in her car. He let out a little laugh, glancing down at the sidewalk before looking back at her,

"Yeah, just needed to take a little walk. Couldn't sleep." she raised her eyebrows at him.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, already mentally preparing herself in case he needed to talk to her. He took in a breath and lifted his head up, looking at the sky before looking back at her,

"Still a little wired from the mission." he admitted, "Just need to get rid of some of the extra energy." she gave him an understanding smile and nodded.

"Got it. Well, I will let you get back to it." she turned to her apartment building, "Night, Cap."

"Goodnight, Q." he bid her goodbye, walking past her as she started up the front stairs to her building. Before she opened her front door, he got her attention, "Hey, Q," she turned to look at him, eyebrows raising expectantly, "What kind of detergent do you use?" he asked, a slight smile on his face.

"Day's over, Cap." she rolled her eyes up to the sky, pointedly looking to where the moon was hanging above them.

"Yeah but I was away on an op and I still have one more question from the day I left." he reminded her, smile growing. She let out an amused scoff, shaking her head,

"So that's gonna be your final question? About my laundry detergent?" she asked, feeling her arms screaming at her for holding the heavy laundry basket for such a long time.

In an effort to be more open with him, she had started a new game between the two of them: he was allowed to ask her ten questions throughout the day - all of them about her. She was allowed two passes a day in case he asked something that she wasn't ready to talk about. So far, they hadn't been that bad at all and kind out there - not your normal questions, but ones like the detergent question.

He shrugged, "You're out of passes." he pointed out, getting an eye roll from her.

"It's Tide for sensitive skin." she answered him, then shook her head slightly, "I don't know why that was so important."

"Well, now I know you have sensitive skin." he responded with a slight shrug as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. She let out a little noise and tried not to smile at his response,

"I'll see you in the morning, Cap." she answered him, unlocking her building door as he wished her goodnight once more.


	23. normal questions

"What is your favorite quote?" he asked her as he leaned against the side window of the elevator, hands slipping into his pockets. She gave him a weird look - eyebrows furrowing, nostrils flattening and the corners of her mouth twitched up, like she was amused but confused.

"My favorite quote?" she repeated him. She clearly understood the question, just not the reasoning behind it. That seemed to happen a lot when he played her game, he didn't understand why.

"Yeah, your favorite quote." he raised his shoulders up; it was a complicated question - the fifth one of the day, and he was curious. It was always interesting to see what someone's favorite quote was because it not only told a lot about how they lived their lives, but what type of person they were.

She eyed him for a moment, looking away as the elevator dinged and the doors opened to the garage. Stepping off after her, he fell into step as they walked to her car - they had carpooled that day. He watched her think about her answer for a moment, stopping as they got to her car. Her mouth twitched up as she got her answer, hands going to rest on the back of her hips as she looked at him,

"Good judgment comes from experience...and a lot of that comes from bad judgment." she quoted. He had never heard that quote before, but it seemed fitting for her - considering what little he knew about her past. He pulled the corners of his mouth down and nodded at her answer. She raised her eyebrows at him, grinning slightly,

"Five out of ten, Cap - and it's only mid morning." she reminded him. He had to start pacing out his questions for the day. She hadn't passed on one yet, but it was only a matter of time. He had learned very quickly that she always passed on questions concerning her family or her past so he made sure to stay away from those.

They had finished with their Friday Fury meeting, leaving the day open wide for whatever activities either had planned. She hadn't said if she had anything planned for them yet, but he already had something in mind.

"Hey, are you busy today?" he asked, stopping her before she went to her side of the car. He didn't want to take over her day if she already had other things going on. Honestly, he didn't really even know what she did during her day when they weren't together - he figured she just planned their next day or looked over the notes from previous sessions.

"No, why?" she asked back, arms going to cross over her chest. Before he could answer, a sly smile came over her face, "Are you asking me out on a date?" she teased. He immediately felt his face heat up and he glanced away from her, clearing his throat and shaking his head,

"No - no, why would I - I wouldn't - now that would be unprofessional." he settled on, pointing at her with raised eyebrows.

The question game had opened up a new side of Q that he wasn't used to yet. He almost felt like it was the closest he would get to the real Q. She used to always go on about how certain things were unprofessional and then she made comments like that one - he never knew how to respond, not knowing if she was serious or not. She laughed at him, ducking her head down before picking it back up to look at him,

"God, that was painful to watch, Cap." she dramatically grimaced at him, "It was like I asked if you murdered a baby." He gave her an unamused look, rolling his eyes to the side for a moment before looking back at her. She grinned at him, leaning against the trunk of her car, arms still crossed, "What did you want to do today?" she asked. He paused for a moment, not sure how to word his question.

"I was wondering...I wanted to go back...The last time we were at the Smithsonian, I didn't get a chance to really see the exhibit because...you know." he motioned with his hand at her - knowing she remembered why. She nodded, confirming that she did remember, "So I wanted to go back and see it all, but I would...feel more comfortable if you were there with me." he admitted, giving her a small smile, "Just in case something happens." he explained. She gave him a genuine warm smile - different from the professional one he was used to, and nodded,

"Yeah, of course." she continued to nod her head, all sense of teasing gone; she understood how important this was for him, "Do you want to go now?" she asked, "The crowds might be smaller than in the afternoon." he nodded in agreement before getting into her car, making sure to reach over to open up her door for her as he always did.

Over the years, Steve had faced a lot of challenges and adversaries, both before the serum and after the serum. They ranged from his health issues to being defrosted into a world that had moved on without him. Presently, the Smithsonian held one of his biggest challenges: seeing his life as Captain America displayed for public consumption. While the general public saw the highlights of his life, he saw moments that were tinged with sadness; they reminded him that he couldn't go back. But he was determined to push past the feelings that had wracked him the first time he had gone to the museum. If the last few months with Q had taught him anything, it was that he had to face his past so that he could move past it.

Facing his past meant going back to the museum and pushing past the feeling of becoming a living historical object. It meant trying to appreciate the exhibit for what it was supposed to be: a tribute to all of his achievements as Captain America.

Still, they took their time walking through the museum. Even with his baseball cap on and protecting him from any curious looks, he needed a few minutes - or what turned into at least an hour to work up the courage to go into the exhibit. He needed to mentally prepare himself for the onslaught of emotions that were bound to hit him as soon as he saw certain parts or objects. She stayed by his side, keeping quiet the whole time as he read over different plaques or looked at interesting pieces of history that he had missed during his time under the ice.

"What's your favorite historical fact?" he asked her while they stood in the sports section of the Smithsonian. He looked over to her, away from where there was a big panel timeline about the past World Series. She had that same look on her face as she did with his question in the elevator.

"These questions are ridiculous, Cap." she said matter of factly. He laughed a little and shook his head, hands slipping into his jacket pockets. August was turning into September and even though it was still warm out, the museum was cold enough for a light jacket.

"I'm just trying to get to know a little more about you, Q." he shrugged casually, getting her to roll her eyes at him. Sometimes it was clear that she regretted ever making up the game, but he liked it. He hadn't heard a bad answer yet and everything she told him seemed truthful so he felt like he was really getting to know her...finally...after spending every day together for the past almost four months.

"By making me think." she pointed out. He shrugged again, not verbally responding. She let out a sigh before turning back to the panel they were in front of. A moment of silence passed as she thought about her answer. She stepped to the side, moving down the wall of panels and he had no choice but to follow, watching as her arms crossed over her chest,

"Since we're in the sports section," she started, "I guess I'll have to go with…" she trailed off before spinning around to look at him, "You know how the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand started World War I?" Steve couldn't help but laugh; she played it as if she was going to give him a historical sports fact, not a war fact. Still, he nodded, remembering learning about it in school, "Well," she continued with a grin, "The whole assassination plan was a miserable failure until one of the assassins stopped to get a sandwich and, by coincidence, spotted and killed Ferdinand and his wife in their car." her eyes lit up with obvious amusement by the story, "I mean, he was just getting a sandwich and then oh shit there's that guy I'm supposed to murder." she imitated, making him laugh again.

"Jar." he pointed at her, making her roll her eyes at him.

"I don't think that should apply because I'm quoting someone." she argued, pulling the corners of her mouth down and shrugging.

"Oh, really?" he asked, laughing at her, "He really said that?" she kept the same face, but only pulled one shoulder up, tilting her head to the side to meet it.

"You never know." she said before turning on her heel and walking away from him.

Throughout the museum, the smattering of crowds seemed to get denser and larger as they got to the Captain America exhibit. He could already feel his chest tightening up and his posture became rigid as they got to the where the Air and Space section merged into his exhibit. Feeling Q's eyes on him, he kept his eyes straight forward - locking on to a small, blank space on the wall across the room. The noise of the crowds mixing with the interactive screens became muffled, the edges of his peripheral vision blurred out whatever smaller displays were a part of the bigger picture and he didn't even notice the people moving past him to get into the exhibit.

A sense of déjà vu rolled over him as they got to the entrance. Before they crossed into the main area, he felt her hand on his arm, gently squeezing it. He looked over to her, seeing the slightly concerned look on her face.

"You don't have to do this, you know." she reminded him, raising her eyebrows up a little bit. He took in a breath and looked away from her, scanning across the small sea of people that were walking around his life. Although he was grateful for her giving him an out, this was an important step for him.

"I do." he nodded to himself. Then he pushed his shoulders back, forcing himself to relax. Nodding again, he looked over to her, giving her a tight smile that was supposed to be convincing, show that he was ready to do it - but it fell flat, "I do." he repeated himself. She nodded back at him and set her posture, hand falling off his bicep.

"Then lead the way, Cap." she gestured to where the exhibit began and he let out the breath he had taken in, forcing himself to move forward.

To say that it was easier the second time around was a little bit of a stretch. It was - to a degree; he was more prepared for what sorts of things he was going to see, but it still gave him the same feelings as before. The same feelings of nostalgia, sadness and guilt were still present as they walked amongst the crowds.

Unlike last time, she was asking him questions about certain parts - even if she already knew the information regarding whatever article was framed or the motorcycle from his war days. He answered her questions, adding on little pieces of information that the plaques didn't touch on. He wracked up quite a debt to his jar though.

At one point, he got caught up looking at the magazine covers from when he had crashed into the ice. So many of the covers had solemn looking photos of him along with headlines proclaiming that he had disappeared or calling him the HERO WHO SACRIFICED EVERYTHING. He wondered how long these types of headlines and stories went on while he was under the ice until they had given up...forgotten him and let him disappear into the past along with everyone else. Q had told him that the exhibit was built after the battle of New York - they had used a lot of his old things from his SSR days. It had taken them almost seventy years to remember him - or Captain America at least.

Being so caught up in his thoughts, he didn't realize that she had moved away from him, to another part of the exhibit. He panicked for a split second - feeling his heart jump to his throat and constricting his airways as he quickly scanned the room. As he did, it was like his brain took a second to process what he was seeing, but then he found her - that wavy, wild ponytail was a few feet away from him...right in front of the Bucky memorial. Of course.

Another wave of déjà vu washed over him as he started to walk over to her. She was standing in the same spot he had been when his panic attack hit him. He kept his breathing even, hands slipping into his jacket pockets so he could curl them into fists without her noticing. As he moved through the crowd, he kept a watchful eye on her as she stepped over to the video screen that was by the three glass panels.

All things considered - aka, actually being Captain America, he thought he would stand out more, but it turned out to be her who stood out. Her arms were crossed over her chest, messenger bag over her shoulder and her pencil skirt and button up shirt, blazer combo made her stand out from the crowd of tourists in their Captain America t-shirts (still weird) and wide visors. People left space around her, almost as if because she looked so professional it made them nervous - like she was an important person. And she was. To him at least.

When he stepped up to her, his arm brushed against hers - making her jump in surprise. She let out a little surprised yelp as she looked over to him, hand going to press against the middle of her chest.

"Shit, you scared me." she breathed out, giving a little laugh.

"Jar." he mumbled out, eyes quickly glancing over the three panels that were dedicated to Bucky. Out of his peripheral vision, he caught her rolling her eyes, hand dropping to her side as she looked back at the video she was watching,

"Hey," she looked over to him and gave him a curious smile. She pointed to the screen where the SSR footage of him and Bucky was playing, "What are you guys laughing about here?" she asked, making him shift his gaze to the video.

It was the same video that triggered his panic attack the last time they visited the museum. The clip was short - maybe not even a second, among a bunch of other short clips from other video footage, but it showed both him and Bucky laughing at something Bucky said. Immediately, he felt like he was back in that barracks - remembering how the SSR crew with the cameras had taken the two of them for interviews for some sort of video that could be played for both the SSR recaps and for the American people. The cameras had followed them for a full month, recording all their travel and planning so that the audiences could get an inside look at what was going on on the battlefield.

"The interviewer asked us to pretend to be friends." Steve forced himself to answer, waiting for the same signs of the panic attack to begin again, "Bucky thought that was ridiculous and told him that we were friends." he said as the clip played again, showing what Bucky's response was before the two of them started laughing again. It was a brief moment of levity during an otherwise stressful and rather dangerous time.

The loop of video played again and he found himself continuing to watch it - almost anticipating the oncoming panic attack. But...it never happened. The feeling of nostalgia was still strong, but mixing with something else he couldn't quite put his finger on. Then he felt her hand on his arm once again and his eyes shifted away from the screen to meet hers.

"Come on, I wanna show you something you missed last time." she said, voice soft like she was trying not to make him nervous.

She led him into a smaller room within the whole exhibit. It was dark and there were a few benches placed around the center of the room, all facing a screen that had some sort of video playing. He sat down next to her on one of the benches, curious to see what the video was about.

After some footage from the SSR camera crews, Peggy's face appeared onscreen and he felt his heart both constrict and jump to his throat. She was younger than she was now, but older than she was then. The date underneath her title informed him the video was filmed during 1953. He watched as she talked about how he had gone behind enemy lines to save the 107th from Hydra. Although she was talking about him as Captain America, she slipped up a few times - calling him Steve. It made his heart skip a bit; even after all those years since he disappeared, she still remembered him as Steve and not Captain Rogers.

Still listening to the interview, he dug his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out his compass that had a picture of her inside the lid. He stared at it for a moment, the feeling of nostalgia getting bigger at the thought of what could have been with Peggy. Thanks to his act of bravery, the two had been separated by time. But time was in a giving mood - allowing the two of them to exist together once more. Since the two of them had taken different paths, their relationship was different and they would never be able to be what they could've have been, but he still felt lucky to have her as someone he could really feel like himself - like Steve Rogers with.

As the interview with Peggy continued, he felt Q's hand come to rest on top of his. She curled her fingers around his palm, squeezing his hand gently. He expected her to let go after, but she continued to hold his hand during the rest of the interview. It was a simple gesture, but one that reminded him that she was there if he needed her.

Once the video began to start over, Q got to her feet, her hand leaving his. She looked down at him, arms crossed over her chest, eyebrows raised,

"If we don't get space ice cream this time, I will throw a fit." she plainly said, making him crack a smile.

The two of them walked out of the Captain America exhibit and he glanced over his shoulder, taking one last scan of the whole thing. He felt a little better than he had the first time he had visited. If anything, he realized that the exhibit would be a good way to remind him of his past whenever he felt lost in this new world. It reminded him of all the important things he had done during World War II, all the people he helped, all those that he lost and how at one point, he was doing things that mattered - fighting for things that mattered.

Since he had begun leading the ops that Fury sent him and the rest of the STRIKE team on, he became more aware of what he was actually doing. He was fighting bad guys, yes, but they seemed to be personal bad guys - ones that affected Fury and SHIELD directly, not endangering the entire world. He was having trouble coming to terms with the fact that these missions were different than the ones he used to go on with the Howling Commandos; for a long time he thought they were the one and the same.

"Say what's in your head." she prompted him as they walked along the outside of the museum eating their space ice cream. It was a weird taste - the ice cream had apparently been something called freeze dried which made it into little dry blocks that he could eat with his hands. But it was still good.

"Just thinking about all the different missions I went on with the Howling Commandos." he answered, picking out another piece of space ice cream, "It's different now."

"How so?" she asked, looking over at him. He took in a breath and looked straight ahead, figuring out the best way to word his answer,

"Back then -"

"Jar."

"We were sent on different missions that helped us get closer to taking down Hydra." he ignored her interjection, "There was a purpose, an end goal." he explained, using his hands as he talked, "Now, it just feels like I'm...cleaning up messes." he sighed, looking back down into the bag of space ice cream.

"I'm sure there's a purpose behind these missions." she assured him. He looked over to her, meeting her eyes, "Fury wouldn't just send you on something unless he thought it was worth it and worth your time." He held eye contact with her, seeing a small smile peek out on her face,

"Yeah, I guess." he found himself agreeing with her, even if he didn't truly believe her.

He still wasn't very good at reading her so he wasn't sure if she really believed what she was saying or not. He wasn't sure how much information regarding the missions she was privy to. But her immediate defense of SHIELD reminded him once again that she was really only with him because it was her job - to take care of him and make sure that he was a good asset to SHIELD, which meant making sure there were no hesitations about his missions. He pushed past that feeling, not wanting it to ruin their day.

Finishing their space ice cream as they walked around the outside of the museum, Steve watched as she lightly kicked a pebble out in front of her, making sure to continue lightly kick it every time they caught up to where it had landed from the previous kick. Her determination to keep kicking the pebble reminded him of every time Bucky would try the same thing - getting upset when he kicked it too hard or it bounced on a crack and went bouncing out into the street.

As they walked, he asked her another question, getting more than halfway through his allotted amount,

"What's your agent title?" he asked, expecting her to look at him with the same look she gave all of his other questions. But her attention was focused on making sure she was able to kick the pebble,

"Uh, it's Agent Proctor." she answered with a scoff, "Nice waste of a question, Cap."

"You don't have like a special number attached or anything?" he asked, hoping she wouldn't dock it as another question, "Like Dawson is Agent Twenty-One, Natasha is Agent Sixty-Seven…"

"Right, cause they're field agents." she pointed out, eyes following where the pebble rolled off to and she adjusted her step pattern so she could kick it again,

"Dawson's a field agent?" he asked, a little confused. She laughed at his confusion, which apparently was not surprising to her,

"He's considered one. During New York he was on the helicarrier with you guys," she said, meaning him and the rest of the Avengers. It made him pause for a moment, thinking back to when he was on the helicarrier.

His brow furrowed as he tried to place Dawson on helicarrier - there were so many SHIELD agents it was hard to keep track. There were different stations with agents attached to the computers...Tony had pointed out one playing some sort of video game, but that wasn't Dawson. For whatever reason, Steve couldn't remember him being there - not that it seemed to bother Dawson; he never brought it up. Maybe that's why Dawson was so relaxed around him in the beginning; they had already worked together before. Still, Steve felt a little bad for not remembering him,

"Now, he's got some super secret project that keeps him here, on the ground." she got his attention again as she finished talking about Dawson's fieldwork. Steve paused for a moment, making a mental note to talk to him about it the next time they were together.

"Well, then let me rephrase that question." he started, "And this doesn't count as an extra question, alright, Q?" he looked at her with raised eyebrows, getting an unamused look from her before she turned her attention back to being able to kick the pebble,

"I'll be the decider of that." she said simply. He ignored her comment, continuing with his question,

"What would your agent number be?"

"Three-five-five." she immediately responded, as if she had thought about it before. He looked at her, eyebrows raising slightly at the number. It was such a large number, certainly not what he was expecting. She met his look with a slight grin then looked back at her pebble, jumping in front of him so she could kick it as she continued, "There was a woman, only known by the codename Agent Three-Five-Five, who was apparently George Washington's most trusted spies during the American Revolution." she explained, the smile becoming almost proud, "I just think it would be a cool homage to her."

"Very cool." he agreed with a nod, a little surprised by her reasoning behind it. He didn't realize she was such a history lover. But he got it; history involved people and her job was all about reading people and figuring out patterns in their day to day lives.

She turned her attention back to her pebble, kicking it a little too hard and sending it rolling off of the curb and into the grass. Slumping down in defeat, she pouted a bit - looking genuinely disappointed that she had lost her pebble. He couldn't help but laugh at her, walking past her as he did so. Even though she was a professional adult, there were moments she acted quite childlike - they were fleeting, but never failed to make him laugh.

"Alright, I have a question for you, Cap." she pulled herself up, walking after him, ponytail bobbing as she tried to catch up to him. He turned around to face her, walking backwards as he did,

"You have a question for me?" he asked, feigning surprise, "Wow, you never ask me anything." he sarcastically said, getting an eye roll from her. She caught up to him, lightly punching his shoulder,

"You're stupid." she scoffed out as he turned to face front, their shoulders just about lining up with each other - he had at least two inches on her, "Why don't you ask me like normal questions?" she asked, hands going to grip the strap of her messenger bag.

"Normal questions?" he repeated, eyebrows raising, "I thought these were normal questions."

"Really?" she asked, matching his expression. She paused as it became clear that he really did think that he was asking her normal questions. Taking in a breath, she twisted her hips to the side and started to explain what she meant, "Why don't you ask questions like what's your favorite song? Or what's your favorite movie? Or what's your favorite color?" she gave a few examples.

"I already know your favorite color." he shrugged, eliciting an eye roll from her, "And I don't know, they just seem...shallow, I guess." she scoffed at him, obviously not pleased with his answer,

"You can tell a lot about a person from their favorite song." she argued.

"Okay, then, what's your favorite song?" he asked, trying to prove her wrong.

"The Chain by Fleetwood Mac." she answered simply with a slight shrug. He made a face, shaking his head a little bit,

"See, that means nothing to me. I've never heard of that song before." He dug into his pocket and pulled out his notebook, writing down the song name and the band she had mentioned in a dramatic way, hearing her laugh,

"Because you're literally ninety-five years old." she grinned at him. He let his mouth open, adopting a fake offended look, "Nine down, Cap, one to go." she reminded him - apparently counting his rephrased question as its own question.

"One?!" he rolled forward on his toes, raising his eyebrows at her, "C'mon, Q, one of those shouldn't count as a question."

"I made the game, I make the rules. And I can change the rules as I see fit." she answered him, giving him a too bad look. He rolled his eyes and scoffed at her,

"That seems like a gross abuse of power." he pointed out. She shrugged at him as they walked to where she had parked her car, obviously not caring what he thought about her decision.

While the last museum visit left him in a state of unease and guilt, the second time had erased all of those feelings. Not completely, but he was feeling a bit better about the whole museum experience. He came to terms with a lot of things - like how to them, Steve Rogers and Captain America were the same person. So maybe the trip to the museum wasn't about facing the past as Steve Rogers, but as Captain America. Facing his past as Steve Rogers would have to be something he did on his own.

As they walked back up the stairs to his apartment, Kate was coming down - dressed in her scrubs and obviously on her way to work. Still, she paused on the landing, giving him a happy smile.

"Like ships in the night." she joked before she greeted him, "Hi, Steve." then she glanced over his shoulder to where Q was behind him, "It's Q, right?" she asked. He looked over his shoulder to see Q nod and greet Kate with a warm smile,

"Hi, Kate, it's good to see you again."

"Where are you two coming from?" she asked, turning her gaze back to him as she made conversation.

"The Smithsonian." he answered simply, not giving too many details. Still, Kate looked impressed,

"Oh, I didn't know people went there willingly." she teased, keeping her eyes on him. He let out a small laugh, tilting his head to the side,

"Well, you know, it's the only place you can get space ice cream while still on the ground." he pointed out, making her laugh.

Q watched their conversation from behind him, her eyes going wide as the two obviously flirted with each other about the museum and space ice cream. Her gaze flicked from the back of Cap's head to Sharon - or rather Kate's, face like she was watching a tennis match. She had never seen him like this before - the easiness he had, the amused grin on his face was much different from his body language he had with her. Even after being in a museum for hours, this was the most interesting thing she had seen all day.

The flirting only lasted a few minutes and soon they were saying their goodbyes, Sharon moving around them to get down the stairs. He looked over his shoulder, watching her walk down the stairs before his eyes flicked over to Q - noticing her expression and immediately looking away. She moved around him, forcing herself past him so she could quickly run up the last of the stairs to get in front of him.

Taking in a heaving breath from the surprise burst of exercise, she put her hands out in front of her as he stepped up the last few stairs,

"Oh my God, Cap!" she cried out, eyes still wide, "That - You were flirting with her." she pointed at the landing as he got to where she was waiting on the top of the steps. He shook his head as he moved past her,

"No, no, I wasn't flirting." he shook his head and she could see the back of his neck turning a little red as he walked over to his door. She moved behind him, patting his back in an excited, random rhythm.

"Yes, yes, yes you were, Cap!" she bounced on her toes as they moved into his apartment. He shrugged her off and shook his head again,

"No, I was just being polite." he refused to turn around to look at her so she snuck through the kitchen, getting in front of him as he got to the dining room, "Something you need to learn how to do, Q." he tried to insult her as a way to deflect. In response, she placed her hands on her hips and gave him an unamused look. The look dropped off her face after a quick moment, returning back to the excited expression that was once there.

"Cap! We have to talk about this." she gestured to him, palms up, arms extended out, "I mean, you have a crush on her!" He was obviously blushing from her comments, which only fueled her.

"No, we don't." he immediately responded, continuing to shake his head, "And no, I don't." he added on. She quickly took off her messenger bag and went in to get her notepad,

"We are." she said firmly, flicking her hands at him in an attempt to make him move over to the couch, "And you at least like her." she responded - leaving off the romantically part that was so clear to her. He let out a heavy sigh, placed his hands on his hips and gave her an unamused look. She grinned at him, still motioning for him to move over to the couch.

"Why do we have to talk about this?" he asked, getting a little more embarrassed.

"Because this is important!" she said as if he were stupid, "This is like a huge step, Cap! It shows that you're finally making connections and not worried about people only liking you because you're Captain America." she explained, not really knowing where she was going with it, but knowing whatever was happening was good for him. He eyed her for a moment, not totally convinced. She adopted her most innocent look; talking about his romantic relationships and experiences was a huge step for both of them in their relationship.

Realizing that she wasn't going to budge on the matter, he took in a deep breath and let his head drop as his hand raised up, "Fine." he mumbled out, and she grinned excitedly.

They were about to get intimate.


	24. a hard left

Getting him to talk about his love life was like pulling teeth. His face was a permanent shade of red and he refused to look at her. His fingers idly played with the edge of his shirt as she tried to pull anything out of him regarding his thoughts on romance or relationships.

"But you like Kate, right?" she asked, circling back to her main point. She had been trying to get him to admit it for the past half an hour.

After seeing the way they interacted, it was painfully obvious that he had a small crush on Sharon. When her assignment first started, she didn't feel bad about lying to him about Sharon; she was doing her job - keeping both of them safe against any threats that may come about. But now that him and Sharon were getting closer, she felt a little twinge of guilt every time she saw or heard about their interactions. So she did was she did best: pushed past it and shoved it down deep, ignoring it and playing along with him.

"You already know I do." he sighed out, shoulders slumping down as he lifted his head up. He was tiring of the conversation too, but she wasn't done yet.

"Romantically?" she immediately followed up, perking her eyebrows up. He held her gaze for a moment before his head fell back down to look at his lap.

"I guess." he mumbled out, finally telling her what she wanted to hear. Stifling her excitement, she recrossed her ankles, leaning forward a bit in her chair,

"So what's stopping you from asking her out?" she asked, eyebrows still raised. He picked his head back up to look at her, brows knitting in confusion.

"Ask her out?" he repeated her as if he didn't understand the concept.

"On...a date…?" she explained carefully, squinting at him a little; she figured he knew that much. He rolled his eyes slightly before looking back at her,

"I know what you meant." he responded. She lifted her hands up at him, defending herself,

"Okay, alright, just seemed like you didn't." she widened her eyes and adapted a dramatic look. He looked unamused by her answer and she took in a breath, hands dropping down to rest on her notepad, "Why don't you pursue that relationship?" she asked. He raised his eyebrows up and let out a self deprecating laugh,

"Kinda hard to when you're me." he answered.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, keeping her reaction - the surprise by his answer, muted. His gaze broke from hers, glancing off to the side as he took in a breath, then shook his head - not giving her an explanation. Sitting back in her seat, she jotted down his answer to her previous question along with a comment of her own, starring it as a way to remind herself to circle back to it, "Maybe you don't need to get into a relationship with her. You could just keep it casual." she shrugged, making a face at him before grinning at him, "I think any girl would jump at the chance to bang one out with Captain America." she joked, trying to diffuse the tension that was beginning to cloud over them.

"Bang one out?" he repeated her again - she couldn't tell if he truly didn't know what she meant or not, so again, she decided to put it plainly,

"Have sex with." she locked eyes with him, watching as the redness on his face returned. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down and - at his reaction, the corner of her mouth twitched up in a small smile. Over the past forty-five minutes, every time she brought up sex, he would turn red with embarrassment.

"Why do you get so red every time I mention s-e-x?" she spelled it out for him, deciding to ask him about his reaction.

"Because I'm not really used to talking about it." he answered, shifting on the couch uncomfortably. She rolled her eyes at him,

"C'mon, Cap, you're a dude." she scoffed, "I'm sure you and your buddies used to talk about it all the time." he shifted again, eyes darting away from hers.

"I never really...participated in those conversations." he admitted, looking back at her - face still as red as a cherry tomato.

"Why not?" she asked, keeping her expression neutral even though her tone suggested curiosity.

"I wasn't that kind of guy." he continued, taking in a deep breath, "I mean, before the serum, no one really wanted to...you know." he gave her a quick, small smile before ducking his head down. She felt her heart break a little at what he meant, but before she could say anything, he continued, "And then after, I just…" his brows furrowed as he tried to think of the right way to explain what he meant, "Sex is a commitment." he settled on, sounding serious. He looked up at her, meeting her eye, "You know, back in my day you had to make a woman feel special, take her out dancing or to the movies, let her know that you cared about her."

As he talked, for some reason, her thoughts went back to Rumlow - comparing everything they did (or didn't do) against what Cap was saying. They never went out on dates or even went out in general. Their time was spent in the bedroom or in the shower or on the couch (not watching movies). It wasn't a real relationship - not that she thought it ever was, but still, with how Cap was talking...it always made her long for one.

Realizing that he had stopped talking, she took in a deep breath, straightening up in her seat and giving him a forced, amused smile

"Well, welcome to the twenty-first century, Cap. And jar." she pointed at him with her pen. He rolled his eyes but reached into his back pocket for his wallet, pulling out a dollar bill and shoving it in the stuffed jar. "Thanks to the sexual revolution of the sixties, it's alright to have sex with someone without being in a relationship. People have casual sex now, no strings attached." she said simply. And sometimes, the relationship came after the sex.

"I'm aware." he sighed out, giving her a pointed look. She pointed at him,

"Don't try to turn the tables." she said warningly, "This is about you, not me." he shifted on the couch, clasping his hands together on his lap as he waited for her to continue, "So when was the last time you had a committed relationship?" she asked, stressing the word; clearly he related sex to being in a committed relationship and she didn't want there to be any confusion as to what they were talking about.

"...Never." her brow furrowed at his answer and she looked up to meet his eye,

"Wait, never had a relationship or never had sex?" Again, he shifted uncomfortably at the word and the question.

"...Both I guess."

"Oh, Cap." she responded, almost instinctively in a pitying way. He scoffed and rolled his head back,

"Don't say it like that." he groaned.

"Like what?"

"With a side of pity." he responded, eyebrows raising. She gave him an apologetic look before shifting forward on her seat,

"Sorry, I guess it just surprised me." she explained, continuing after seeing his confused look, "You and Agent Carter…" she trailed off, "That was clearly a relationship."

"It was?" he asked, the confused look still on his face.

"Wasn't it?" she asked carefully, a little nervous that she had misread their relationship. The way he talked about her, how he admitted that he was still in love with her - there had to be a past relationship.

"I don't know if what I had with Peggy would be considered a relationship." he answered, twisting his fingers together in an unsure manner,

"Well, did you ever talk about it?" she asked, getting a humorless laugh from him.

"I went into the ice before we could." she shut her mouth, pausing for a moment before asking a follow up question,

"So then what did you do?"

"What do you mean?" she shifted in her seat at his question; now, it was her turn to get a little uncomfortable. She had been comfortable talking about the idea of sex with him - even taking a little glee in it; she figured he was just getting embarrassed because of the time he was from and how he was raised. But at his question, she realized she might have to explain what she meant, which made it feel a little more personal and real. She took in a breath before answering, motioning to him with her hand,

"Did you two ever have any...like heavy make out sessions? Or anything below the belt?" she asked. His face turned red again and he dropped his eye contact with her, making her perk up, "So yes?" she asked, feeling that same sense of glee return; she was getting to know a lot more about him than she had before. Never had she ever thought that he would be the that type of guy. Turned out he wasn't as prim and proper as she originally thought. He stuttered out an answer, trying to defend himself and she tried to assure him that it was okay, "Cap, it's fine. Hands wander, mouths wander, things happen." she shrugged casually, trying to seem unbothered. And she was. Sex wasn't that big of a deal to her. A means to an end, if anything. It wasn't such a serious commitment to her as it was to him.

"We only kissed." he said suddenly, "Once." he glanced up at her, holding eye contact with her. Now it was her time to be confused. Her brow furrowed as she leaned forward, arms resting on her notepad,

"Then why did you get all embarrassed when I asked?" she asked him, trying to figure it out, "Was there someone else?" He raised his eyebrows slightly, eyes darting away from her for a split second before looking back at her - body language proving that the answer to her question was a yes. She tilted her head to the side, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, "Well, I'll be damned, Cap."

"Jar." he said seriously as the red began to creep back against his skin. She rolled her eyes, but shoved her notepad into the side of the chair she was sitting in before she stood up.

"Tell me about her." she prompted as she moved over to her messenger bag to get her yellow wallet. He took in a deep breath, clearly not wanting to. Looking over at the back of his head, she could see that he was a little tense, "Do you feel guilty about it?" she asked, knowing that his was default setting when it came to anything regarding his past.

"A little." he answered her as she stuffed a dollar bill into her own overflowing jar.

"Did it happen after you and Agent Carter kissed?" she asked as she walked back over to her chair. He shook his head, leaning back against the couch, "Okay, so there's no reason to feel guilty about it." she said simply, placing her notepad back on her lap.

"But she caught us."

"Oh shit." he gave her a pointed look and she sighed, getting back to her feet, "Tell me about it." she prompted again, hoping this time she would actually get something out of him.

And surprisingly, she did. He told her all about the woman who kissed him at the SSR base. She was the secretary to Colonel Phillips, Private Lorraine. They had struck up a conversation while he was waiting to see Colonel Phillips, then somehow he found himself kissing her - only to have Agent Carter walk in on them.

"Draaaammmaaaa." Q sang out as he finished his story about how Lorraine had seduced him.

"Peggy was not happy." he said, eyes going wide a bit as he remembered her reaction.

"Of course not." she laughed out, crossing her ankles, "She caught you kissing another woman, when you should've been kissing her." he raised his eyebrows at that, silently agreeing with her, "So you've kissed people." she stated, moving on, "That's better than nothing."

"I guess." he mumbled out, letting out a sigh. Silence rolled over them as she jotted down a few notes around her notepad.

"Can I ask you something kinda serious?" she piped up after a moment, hearing him laugh.

"When don't you?" he responded, getting her to look at him with a slight grin,

"True." she pointed at him with her pen before continuing, "Do you think that your love for Agent Carter is getting in the way of you having a relationship with someone else? Someone like Kate?" she asked, knowing it was a loaded question, but an important one. There was a long moment of tense silence as she waited for his answer. He kept eye contact with her for the long moment before looking away, jaw clicking as he clenched his teeth. His fists balled up against his thighs and his posture tightened.

"Why are we doing this?" he asked back, suddenly getting defensive.

"What?" she asked, a little thrown off by his question.

"Why are you asking me about this stuff?" he explained a little more, but she just got more and more confused,

"Because it's important." she stated matter of factly.

"Is it?" he asked, raising his eyebrows up like he didn't believe her. His quick attitude change got her attention - clearly she had hit a nerve. And now, it had snowballed.

"...Yes." she answered hesitantly, not sure where he was going with his line of questions. She had already explained to him earlier in the evening that it was proof that he was finally making connections and not worried about people only liking him because he was Captain America.

"Why? It has nothing to do with my ability to perform as a SHIELD asset." he said with a slight shrug, pulling the corners of his mouth down.

"Your life is more than just being a soldier." she argued back, shaking her head a bit. She opened her mouth to continue, but he cut her off,

"Since when do you care about my life outside of being a soldier?" he snapped out, but his expression was serious. She paused, mouth still open a bit as she stared at him.

"I've always cared about your life outside of being a soldier." she found herself repeating his question as an answer, struggling to come up with something more. She was thrown off by his question; she hadn't ever expected him to doubt that she didn't care about him. Her whole job was about him - making sure he was okay and adjusting properly.

"Really?" he asked, eyebrows going up a bit more as he leaned forward, "Cause over the past few months, you've only ever talked to me about things regarding my life as Captain America. Stuff that could impair my ability to be a good soldier again." she paused again, eyes shifting over his face and the way he was holding himself. He wasn't angry, but he sure was defensive. Her question must've triggered something in him that made him doubt her intentions.

"Why do you think that, Cap?" she asked, trying to get a grip on herself with how quickly this conversation had turned.

"For one? That right there." he pointed at her, leaning back in his seat, "Right there. You've always called me Captain or Cap. Never Steve."

"Well, that's out of respect -"

"Oh, bullshit, Q." he cut her off and her eyes went wide at the curse, "It's so you can keep that professional line right where you want it. And now? Now, we're talking about my - my sex life and romantic relationships. It's a hard left from what we usually talk about." he ranted, eyes widening a bit as he let out a humorless laugh, "I'm sorry, Q, but I'm sure you can understand why I'm hesitant when it comes to talking to you about my sexual history."

"Or lack thereof." she mumbled out, knowing he could hear her. She was hurt. She didn't realize that he felt like she only cared about Captain America, not Steve Rogers. Of course she cared about Steve Rogers - that was her assignment: to make sure Steve Rogers was adjusting to the modern world. Not Captain America.

"You're right." she said, taking in a deep breath after a moment of awkward silence. She decided not to get into a fight with him, "This isn't something we should talk about. It isn't professional of me." she let out an awkward laugh, shaking her head as she flipped over the pages of her notepad. If this was how he felt, she wasn't going to push him into talking about it more. Apparently it had been painful enough for him.

"I won't bring it up again." she waved her hands around, giving him a sheepish smile. He swallowed back hard, but nodded as she gathered her things up, "I should get going." she stood up from her seat, nodding at him, "I'll see you in the morning, Captain."

"Good night, Agent." he responded softly, not getting up to walk her to the door like he usually did. She hesitated momentarily at his use of her title, but then tried to brush it off as she walked to the door, then out of his apartment.

God, she felt so shitty. She hadn't even realized that he felt that way. Her graphs and charts didn't show it and neither did his past interactions with her. She thought they were making progress; he trusted her, he talked about his past, she began to open up to him, they were friends…that was progress. Right?

Apparently not.

At her apartment, she flipped through her monthly notepads and progress reports, trying find examples of her own ignorance. Where she had focused on his Captain America past rather than Steve Rogers. And what she found...was that he was right. Sure, in her head she knew that Steve Rogers and Captain America were two different people. She even made a case for him to Fury when he wanted to Cap to wear the masks out in public. But throughout her notes, it was clear that they only talked about the events that happened to Captain America. They barely had any conversations about his past before the serum - the ones they did all related back to Captain America. Goddamnit.

"I mean, he's totally right." she finished her story with a shrug, arms crossing over her chest as she leaned against Dawson's desk in Operations Control, looking down at where he was typing away on his computers. His eyes darted in between each screen as he focused on whatever he was working on. He wasn't paying attention to her - that much was clear, but she just needed to talk her way through what she discovered the night before.

Letting out a dramatic sigh, she finally pulled Dawson's attention away from his computer monitors.

"What are you babbling about?" he asked, looking up at her. She gave him an unamused look before tilting forward, trying to see his screens.

"What are you working on?" she asked back. He quickly moved out of the coding screens he was on, leaning back in his seat and making a face.

"Nothing, don't worry about it." he shook his head and she gave him a look; again with his secret project. "Anyway, so you need to figure out a way to show Rogers that you care about him even though all of your past data reflects differently." he summarized, raising his eyebrows up as he changed the subject. She nodded at him, pushing off of where she was leaning against his desk. She needed to find a way to prove to Cap that she cared about Steve Rogers just as much as she cared about Captain America.

"I don't know what to do." she complained as Dawson rolled back from his desk, taking off the headset that was around his neck.

"Please," he scoffed, giving her an unconvinced look, "You probably have like five different plans already ready to go." she pulled down the corners of her mouth and shrugged as she followed him out of Operations Control and to the elevators.

"Maybe, but I don't know if any of them are good enough." she admitted. He gave her a look as the elevator doors slid close,

"Weapons." he called out, making the elevator jerk as it started to pull them down, "Whaddya got?" he asked, leaning against the window. She took in a breath and started to rattle off a few of her plans.

"But I've been trying to get a trip to Brooklyn authorized ever since I was assigned to him, but Fury keeps shooting me down." she finished as they got into his lab. She took two gummy worms from the bag on one of the tables before leaning against the table.

"Who's going to Brooklyn?" Natasha asked as she walked into the lab after them, shutting the door behind her. Q didn't even hear her behind them - she was stealthy like that.

"Q wants to take Steve." Dawson absentmindedly answered as he scooped up a few of the same small circles that Natasha used on her missions. Q gave him a wide eyed are you serious look at his blatant disregard of protocol - not that there was a real SHIELD one, but after he spilled to Cap, she at least thought he learned his lesson about telling people things that they shouldn't know.

"Well, why can't you?" Natasha asked, crossing her arms over her chest and tossing her hair over her shoulder as she looked to Q.

"Fury keeps denying my request." she admitted, knowing there was no point in lying. And she never could to the SHIELD agent; Q was still intimidated by her and her skills so she knew that it was safer to tell the truth right off the bat.

"Oh, I can help with that." Natasha answered with a casual shrug, "No problem."

"No, it's alright." she raised her hand up and shook her head slightly. She didn't need her help or for Natasha to feel like she was being guilt tripped into helping her; Q could handle it on her own, "I'm sure Fury has a good reason for keeping him in DC what with all the missions you guys are going on and such."

"Maybe," Natasha shrugged again, "but Steve deserves a night off just as much as any of us." she explained, keeping eye contact with her. Q nodded slowly, figuring that since Natasha was offering, she might as well take advantage of it.

"Well, don't feel like you have to." she settled on, giving the red-head a brief smile. Natasha grinned slyly at her,

"Well, what are friends for?" she asked, using that word again. Q wasn't bothered by it but she was still surprised by the way Natasha threw it around so casually, yet seemed like she meant it. Dawson got Natasha's attention, handing over the small circular chips.

"Remember -"

"They sting." she cut him off with an eye roll, "I know." he gave her an unamused look as she grinned at him, clearly amused by his reminder and very clearly not believing it. Then she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek, which got Q's attention. Her eyes went wide as he blushed and stammered out sassy response that wasn't his best. And once Natasha sauntered out of the lab, Q pounced,

"What the fuck was that!?" she gasped out, ripping her gummy worm between her teeth.

"Shut up." he grumbled out, busying himself with cleaning up his table so that he didn't have to look her in the eye.

"Is...is there something going on between you two?" she asked, waving her half eaten gummy worm in the space between him and where Natasha had just been standing.

"No. No." he seriously said, stressing the second no as his eyes darted over to look at her. She grinned at him and he stood up straighter, fixing her with a look, "I thought talk about romantic relationships was unprofessional." he sassed her, throwing her words back in her face. She scoffed and tossed the rest of her gummy worm at him before she left his lab.

Checking her phone for any missed texts from Cap, she made her way back to the elevator so she could get to her office. After his training session with Natasha, he left the Triskelion while she had stayed. She had expected him to be angry at her - or at least still be on the defense, but there was no sign of either while they interacted. Almost like nothing had happened between them. He started a new round of questions - getting up to five before he left the building and started addressing her as Q again when it was just the two of them.

She was a little thrown off; she was expecting him to be angry with her, give her the silent treatment again, hold it against it her, or even be a little sassy with her. She had crossed what seemed to be a major line - and looking back, she knew she shouldn't have. His body language, his reactions, his clear aversion to talking about his romantic life with her should've all been pings for her to adhere to and stop the conversation, but for some reason, she barreled right past them - only thinking about herself in that moment and how the information would make her feel, not him.

Instead of reacting as a normal person would, he seemed to have let it go. It made her want to talk about it more and she made a note to at some point. For now, she was more focused on trying to show him that she cared about both his entire being, not just his Captain America persona.

A knock on her office door got her attention, she looked over to see that Fury was standing in the doorway. Immediately, she straightened up, pushing out of her seat and ignoring his hand motion for her to stop. A part of her couldn't help but be nervous about his appearance; he never came down to her office - only ever calling her up to his office when they had meetings or whatnot.

"Sir," she nodded at him, clasping her hands in front of her and giving him a small nod.

"I wanted to let you know that your request to take Captain Rogers on a weekend trip to Brooklyn has been approved." he said, handing a file folder out to her as he stepped into her office. Her brow furrowed as she took it, flipping it open to find her original request form with the stamp of approval across the first page. The question of how was on the tip of her tongue, but she decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Uh, thank you, sir." she lifted her head up so she could nod at him again, "I will start making the travel arrangements now." she gave him a small smile. He let out a little laugh and shook his finger at her,

"Keep up the good work, Proctor." he complimented her and she felt a warm feeling spread through her body. Whenever Fury praised her - once in a blue moon, it reassured her that she was doing the right thing for once in her life. It made her feel proud and accomplished, replacing the feelings of self-doubt that lingered even though she had been with SHIELD for almost ten years.

"Will do, sir." she tried to contain her excitement at the compliment as he walked out of her office.

Sitting back in her seat, she flipped through the rest of her request form, seeing all the plans she had laid out. Whatever Natasha had done or said to him had worked. Thank God.

As he finished washing his dishes, Steve glanced at the clock. She was late. It had only been a few minutes, but still she was never late. He moved over to where his phone was on the breakfast bar, checking to see if there were any missed calls or texts from her. But there was nothing. He figured he give her another few minutes before he texted her and asked where she was.

He was already prepared to apologize to her for how he acted the night before. He shouldn't have gotten so defensive over what she asked. And he definitely shouldn't have questioned her intentions. She had been nothing but helpful to him - even going above and beyond when he wanted to learn more about her. She had always been respectful of his boundaries, he could've just asked her to stop and they wouldn't have had the awkward conversation about his sex life.

But no, instead he had to go and make her feel bad about herself. He had to go and be a punk about it. Over the past four months, he always had a bit of trouble reading her during their talks; she kept her reactions close to her chest - unless he was being teased by her, or she wanted him to know how she felt, but the moment his words registered, a quick, uncontrolled look of hurt flashed over her face. Looking back, he pinpointed that as the moment where he went too far.

And after she left, he realized that she had made a good point - he was still hung up on Peggy. Both in the past and the present. By moving on to someone new, he felt like he was betraying her. That was something he needed to work out on his own, which he spent the day trying to do. Now, he just wanted to talk to Q about it. And apologize for what he said and how he made her feel.

The familiar click of the lock on his door got his attention. He stepped out of the kitchen to see her stepping in his apartment, looking out of breath - which was normal for her. She shut the door behind her and gave him an semi-embarrassed smile.

"Hey, Cap." she said, "Sorry I'm late." He realized then that Cap was her nickname for him. Sure, he would like to hear her call him Steve, but it was better than his full title.

"That's alright." he assured her, "I was just finishing up supper." she gave him a relieved smile as she walked into his apartment, taking her messenger bag off and placing it on the table, "Hey, Q," he started, turning to watch as she rummaged through her bag, "I just wanted to -"

"Please don't start to apologize to me." she cut him off with a glance, "You do that way too often." he let out a small laugh, both of them knowing it was true - but he just felt like he had more to apologize than she did. Almost like he was making up for past mistakes to those he could no longer apologize to,

"It was me who was out of line. I should've realized that it wasn't something you wanted to talk about." she explained, "I just got so caught up in the fact that you might have a crush that I just...it got out of hand." she finished, holding her hand up, "If you want to keep that line there, that's completely fine and I will respect that." she said seriously.

"Thank you, Q." he said gratefully, pausing for a moment before continuing, "But I don't want there to be that line between us anymore." he said, raising his eyebrows a bit. In truth he didn't want there to be any lines between them, holding them back from whatever friendship that was developing, but one step at a time, "It's just...been awhile since I've had someone that close to me to where I could talk about things like that." he explained, giving her a sheepish grin.

"Like Bucky?" she asked curiously. He laughed a little at her immediate suggestion - almost like she knew exactly who he was talking about. He nodded and gave a little sigh,

"I guess so. We used to talk about those types of things all the time - girls, relationships...love…" he trailed off, remembering some of the conversations he and Bucky had or their double dates - ones that usually failed for him, "But we're not in Brooklyn anymore." he gave her a resigned smile and she nodded slowly, a grin twitching at the corners of her mouth.

"Funny you should say that…" she started, stepping past him and into the living room. He slipped his hands into his pockets as he watched her walk over to the record player and plug some wire into the side. His brow furrowed as she plugged her phone into the opposite end. She turned the record player on with one hand while the other tapped at her phone.

"I know you like to tease me about my music taste, but I think you'll really like this one." she grinned at him devilishly.

Before he could ask what she meant, his apartment was suddenly filled with the sounds of men yelling out "NO SLEEP TILL-" then a harsh electric guitar cut them off for a moment before the men came back in, finishing their sentence "BROOKLYN!"

Steve let out a laugh as she raised her hand up, her thumb crossing over her two middle fingers as she kept her pointer finger and pinky up. She pulsed her hand to the beat of the song and mouthed along with the words before chiming in with whoever was screaming/singing:

"No! Sleep! Till Brooklyn!"

As the song shifted back into the electric guitar noise, she grinned at him, pausing the song and pointing at him with her free hand, "Pack your bags, Cap. We're going to Brooklyn!"


	25. brooklyn pt 1

It took a week for her to get all the plans in order for their trip to Brooklyn. He spent that week mostly hanging out with Dawson; she was being very secretive about their plans and refused to talk to him - even cancelling their bidaily meetings, which meant it was serious. She wanted everything to be a surprise for him. So after he was finished with his run and Natasha's training sessions, he left the Triskelion with Dawson, who took his apology about feeling bad for not remembering who he was with a grain of salt. They would head back to his apartment and watch different movies or tv shows until way after the sun set.

They made it through the rest of the Die Hard movies, a few new horror movies (one was called Saw) along with a bunch of other old movies - they were apparently the classics. All their movie and tv show watching was referred to as marathoning, which was an odd term for Steve; he always thought marathons were more related to running, but apparently it was also a term used for watching copious amounts of media in a short amount of time.

By the time the week was up, he was tuckered out from all the different movies and tv shows he had seen. He had never consumed that much media in his life. His notebook had about three or four pages filled up with things from each movie or show that he didn't understand. There was so much going on in his head, sometimes he forgot if it had actually happened or if it was just part of whatever movie or show they had watched. He needed a break. And he needed Q.

Thankfully, she rescued him from his intense binge-watch (another term from Dawson) week on Friday morning after his run. She was waiting for him at his apartment, which he noticed she had cleaned from tip to top, instructing him to take a shower while she finished packing him a bag of clothes. He knew her well enough to know she would pick out things that wouldn't make him stand out - which meant none of his slacks or plaid button ups. But he was surprised to see a pair of dress pants and a nicer button up shirt folded in there along with the rest of his clothes.

Then, she herded him out of his apartment and into one of those Ubers. She passed him a folder with the specific instruction not to open it until they were on the train. The fact that they were taking a train surprised him; he figured they'd be driving or at least take a SHIELD plane. She wasn't even dressed in her usual pencil skirt, button up and blazer combo, having traded them out for a pair of black stretchy pants, a plain white tee shirt and a long grey cardigan. She had dressed for comfort rather than professionalism.

He kept his baseball cap low as they boarded the train, placing their duffels on the shelf above the seats. According to her, the train ride would take a little over three hours - same as the car ride. The train looked fancier than he remembered trains being: they had assigned seats, the seats were comfortable, there was enough leg room and no one had to stand. As he sat in the seat by the window, he did a quick survey around the train car they were in to make sure he knew where the exits were and how many people were on the train. Being so early in the morning, it wasn't as crowded as he thought it was - there was a middle aged woman in a business suit similar to the ones he saw Q wearing sitting across from them, but there was still a good amount of people.

When the train started moving, a nudge from her got his attention and he glanced over to see that she was holding out a piece of paper that was resting on top of a hard surface of a book and pencil. The paper had an empty Sudoku puzzle printed on it and he noticed that she was holding an exact copy.

"Last one to finish has to buy dinner tonight." she challenged, "And we're going somewhere suuuuuper fancy." she added as an incentive. He raised his eyebrows at her, but took the puzzle, accepting her challenge.

Before getting to work on his puzzle, she held out one of her earphones - the small white thing fit into his ear so he could listen to his music whenever he wanted. It was one of the better inventions of the new century. He let her choose the music, knowing they were getting closer and closer to the type of music he had heard on the radio during their first day together. But instead, she turned on some sort of music that didn't have any lyrics, just a bunch of different beats. It helped him focus on the puzzle; he didn't have to listen to what the singers were trying to say.

Almost finished with his, he glanced over at Q's puzzle to gauge her progress. She was slumped down in her seat, unlike how she usually sat during their conversations and one leg was tucked under the other as she chewed on the top of her pen. She caught him looking at her puzzle and immediately shifted in her seat, tilting the book closer to her chest so he couldn't see. She looked almost offended by his actions, glancing from his face to his puzzle and he couldn't help but tilt his away as well.

"Were you trying to cheat?" she asked, raising her eyebrows up.

"I would never." he copied her expression, but tried to make it look innocent. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him for a long moment, trying to get him to break. Instead, he changed the subject, "Why do you use a pen?" he asked, nodding to the pen in her hand. His question threw her off; her eyes darted down and away from his and to the pen. Over the past week apart, he hadn't been able to ask her any of his allotted ten questions a day and he was ready to make an argument about fairness. But she instead of calling him out on the question, she surprised him by answering it,

"Uh, because that way you can see your mistakes." she said, lifting her head up to look at him with small smile. She lowered the book her puzzle was resting on, showing him all the scribbles she had made while she figured out the puzzle, "Sort of a metaphor for life. You can't go back and erase your mistakes." she shrugged. He stared at her puzzle for a moment before looking back at her,

"That's really deep." he said, mock serious and acting overly concerned. She rolled her eyes at him. He smirked at her before pointedly looking at her puzzle again. Making sure she saw, he went back to his own puzzle, copying where she had some of her numbers. He heard her let out an offended gasp and then she shoved his shoulder away from her, jostling him a bit.

"God, you're such a punk!" she exclaimed, annoyed with him. He raised his eyebrows up and tilted his head to the side, staring at her for a moment and seeing the corners of her mouth twitch up.

"No one's called me a punk in a very long time." he responded, pulling down the corners of his mouth. He called himself that, in his head, but the last person to say it out loud was...Bucky. His chest tightened instinctively at the memory, but instead of reacting as he normally would at the thought of Bucky, he found himself laughing lightly.

"Well, maybe they should." she said matter of factly. He glanced over to her to see that the corners of her mouth were pulled down as she shrugged lightly. Rolling his eyes at her, he nudged his shoulder into hers, making her sway to the side.

"Stop it." she said, playfully smacking him with her book. He scrunched up away from her and let out a little noise before glancing down at her puzzle,

"You have two sixes in the middle row." he quickly pointed out. She looked back at her puzzle and groaned, scribbling out her second six as she cursed under her breath. He watched her for a moment before going back to his own puzzle.

But before he started back up again, he noticed that the woman sitting across from them had a wry smile on her face. He did a double take, realizing that her gaze was flicking in between him and Q. Shifting in his seat, he got her attention and she gave him a knowing smile, but lifted her hand up.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to stare." she apologized, even though she didn't seem too upset or embarrassed at getting caught. She shook her head slightly, "You two just make a cute couple."

That got Q's attention. He felt his breath catch in the back of his throat at the insinuation in surprise and braced himself for her reaction. Her head flicked up from her puzzle and she quickly shook her head, shifting up in her seat,

"Oh, no we're not a couple." she quickly corrected the woman, "Just friends." she said simply, but firmly. Steve nodded in agreement, giving the woman a tight smile. He noticed she didn't say co-workers like she had when Kate assumed the same thing a couple months ago. Friends were better than co-workers.

"Right, right, of course." the woman agreed, waving her hands in front of her, "I didn't mean to assume."

"It's alright." he tried to assure her it was alright, pairing it with another not as tight smile. She gave them an apologetic smile, then went back to whatever book she was reading.

Q looked over to him, slumping down in her seat as she did and giving him a semi-amused smile, pairing it with raised eyebrows. She didn't seem offended or angry by the woman's assumption, but almost like it was funny to her that anyone would think that they were a couple. He returned the smile and then went back to work on his puzzle.

A little while later, he heard Q let out a content sigh. He glanced over to see that she was finished with her puzzle - a proud smile on her face. She shimmied her shoulders and picked up her puzzle, flashing it at him.

"Allll done!" she sang out victoriously, "Looks like someone's buying dinner tonight." she teased, poking him in the side. He made a face, raising his eyebrows up,

"Is that so? Are you really confident that you're correct?" he asked, wanting her to doubt herself.

"A hundred percent certain." she said with a firm nod. He let out a slow breath and shook his head slowly as he quickly filled in the rest of his boxes, then gestured for her to get the answer key. She stood up and reached into the front pocket of her duffel bag that was resting on the shelf above them.

Unfolding the piece of paper, they compared their answers with the filled out puzzle. She was faster than him and she let out a victorious whoop. Grinning at him, she started her shoulder dance again, poking his arm to a beat in her head,

"I won. I won. I woooooooonnnnnnnn." she bragged.

"And you're very modest about it." he shot back, making her scoff and roll her eyes as he batted her hands away from him. She grinned at him as she glanced over her puzzle once more. He moved to open the folder she gave him earlier in the morning, deciding it was time to look over what she had planned out.

The packet nestled inside the folder had DAY ONE stamped on the cover and he flipped through it quickly, trying to find the second day's section. His brow furrowed as he realized there was no day two. The plan was to stay from Friday to Sunday so there had to be a day two.

"Where's day two?" he asked, getting her attention. She raised her eyebrows at him, "There's only a packet in here for day one, not day two." he explained.

"Well, we can't have you getting ahead of yourself, can we?" she asked, tilting her head at him, "You'll get day two tomorrow." she said matter of factly. He rolled his eyes at her; of course she would only give him one schedule at a time.

Sighing, he started to look through what he did have. She had included everything from the hotel to the their meals and everything in between. Day one seemed pretty light; mostly it was a travel day, but she had slipped in a few things they would be doing. Museums and sightseeing were pretty much the two main things. He recognized some names like the Brooklyn Bridge and Jane's Carousel, but there were other attractions like the Sunshine Laundromat and the Brooklyn Art Library that he had never heard of before. She had done a good job at filling their day with things that were both familiar to him and unfamiliar to him. It was a nice mix.

The closer they got to New York, the more he found himself getting both excited and nervous. He hadn't been back to New York since he moved to DC and he certainly hadn't been back to Brooklyn since before the serum. He already knew how much New York had changed since he lived there, but he still couldn't help but be a bit nervous. Still, he was grateful she had decided to plan this trip for him; a part of him was excited to get back home where he once was just a normal, skinny guy named Steve. Not Captain America or the world's first superhero - just Steve.

After getting off the train at Penn Station, they got on another train to Brooklyn. This was more of the type of train he was used to. Hard plastic seats, the train car felt stuffy and was packed with people. He let Q have the empty seat while he stood above her, holding onto the railing for the thirty minute train ride. No one paid attention to them; either on their phones or reading the newspaper. It was beginning to feel like home again.

The train let them off at their stop and he walked next to her as she maneuvered her way out of the station. During the time from Penn Station to Brooklyn, it was sort of like she had become a whole new person; she shoved past people, became a little more aggressive and there was an annoyed, but focused look on her face. He couldn't help but laugh a little at her change in persona.

Once out of the station, they took a cab to the hotel she had booked them. He watched the city go by as they drove, getting flashes of past memories here and there from different buildings or streets. She was quiet next to him, letting him take it all in.

The hotel was nice, nicer than he expected. But then again, SHIELD was paying for everything so of course she would go above and beyond to make sure their trip was the best it could possibly be. She checked them in - under her name he noticed, and then they went up to their room.

"Oh no." Were the first two words out of her mouth when she walked into the hotel room. He stepped in behind her, trying to figure out what had made her react in such a way, "There's only one bed." she sighed out, walking forward and he noticed what she meant, "Shit, Cap, I'm sorry, I asked for two beds…" she trailed off, dropping her duffel bag and going over to the phone, "I'll take care of it."

"No, no it's okay." he stopped her. The room itself was amazing. Exposed brick walls, hard concrete floors - it was big enough for three of them. There were two floor to ceiling windows right by the bed and across from the bed, that had the perfect view of the city. A long couch sat under the window across from the bed and he gestured to it, "I'll just sleep on the couch."

"No, you won't." she said shaking her head, "I'll take the couch. You take the bed."

"No, no, no." he refused, shaking his head as well, "Take the bed, Q, I'll be fine on the couch. I've slept in worse places." he reminded her. She eyed him for a moment before giving in,

"Fine. But you're taking the bed tomorrow night." she compromised. He nodded, knowing that he would weasel his way out of it so she would have the bed again the second night.

Anyway, it wasn't like they would be spending a lot of time in the hotel room; he barely put his duffel down before she was already shooing him back out the door - talking about how they had to get started. Clearly, she wanted to stick to her schedule. He wouldn't have expected anything less.

The rest of the day was spent walking around Brooklyn and going to the aforementioned spots that were in the packet he paged through on the train. He found the laundromat was actually home to a secret room that had over twenty different pinball machines. They spent a good hour playing all the different games together. The art library was his new favorite place; it was a collaborative library of artists' sketchbooks from all different times. She wandered around the library while he spent most of their time leafing through different sketchbooks. A part of him was worried that she found their activities boring, but she didn't give anything away - letting him spend as much time as he wanted wherever they went and participating in everything alongside him.

As they continued to visit new and old places together, he felt his nervousness disappear. He felt at home again. It had been a while; DC certainly wasn't home and yes, Brooklyn had changed drastically over the years, but it still felt more familiar and more homey than DC ever would.

The sun was setting as they walked back to their hotel. It had been a nice September day to explore the city - there was a light breeze and the temperature had started to drop from the sweltering summer heat they were used to. He had his hands in his pockets, glancing around the familiar block as she walked next to him, arms crossed over her chest. Everywhere they had been throughout the day had a slight tint of familiarity to it - whether it was an old attraction or a new one. There were still memories throughout the city that he hadn't thought about in ages. The people - like Bucky, who he shared these memories with might not have been around anymore, but the memories were a nice reminder that those things had happened. At one point they had been present, now they were just past.

Passing by an alleyway, he paused in front of the entrance, making her stop a few paces in front of him.

"What?" she asked, doubling back to meet him at the opening of the alley.

"I, uh, got beat up in this alley." he said, pulling his hand out of his pocket to point down the alley, "Yeah, a few guys stole these kids' ball so I tried to make 'em give it back." he told the story, remembering how he confronted the bullies only to be beat up by them - tossed back and forth like a rag doll until Bucky came in to save the day per usual. Q was quiet for a moment before laughing to herself,

"Oh my God...I think I beat someone up in this alley." she responded, pointing down the alley and making him look at her - surprised by her answer. Firstly because he had forgotten that she was from Brooklyn as well, but then also because he couldn't imagine her beating anyone up.

"Really?" he asked, eyebrows raising slightly as he glanced over her body. He really couldn't see someone like her beating someone up; she had no muscle mass and was already getting winded from the walk.

"Yeah…" she trailed off, "I don't remember why, but I know it was this alley." she nodded to herself, "Probably because my brother was bein a lil shit and I had to save him from getting his ass kicked." she laughed lightly.

"Jar. And that sounds familiar." he answered, pulling the corners of his mouth down. Bucky always had to break up whatever fights Steve was getting himself into - even though Steve always tried to tell him that he had it under control. He stood there for a moment more, but she turned away, resuming their walk back to the hotel, "You have a brother?" he asked, realizing she had given away a little piece of information he was unaware of.

"Mhm." she nodded as he caught up with her, falling into step next to her, "And a sister. Both younger." she added, "We call my sister Surprise because, well, she was a surprise." she raised her shoulders up and laughed a little.

"Does your family still live here?" he asked, knowing he was treading dangerous waters. She always refused to answer any of his questions about her family. But considering she had brought up her brother on her own and they were in her hometown as well, he figured he might as well try.

"No, they, uh, moved to the suburbs before my sister started high school." she answered, surprising him once again. She gave him a small, tight smile, which he took as a warning to stop asking questions about her family, "You didn't have any siblings, right?" she asked, brow furrowing as if she was trying to remember what she had read in her files.

"Just Bucky." he answered, knowing Bucky was more like a brother to him than any sibling could be, "He had a younger sister, but I don't know what happened to her…" he trailed off, realizing it was true. Before the war, she had been shipped off to boarding school and he had tried to get in contact with her after Bucky's death, but she refused to answer any of his messages. Steve knew she blamed him for Bucky's death and he understood why.

"I'm sorry." she gave him a sympathetic smile, pulling him out of his thoughts before he could think too hard about it. He shook his head at her, not wanting to get into the serious stuff after such a fun day.

"It's ok." she took in a breath and nodded at him, the two of them falling into a comfortable silence as they walked back to the hotel.

Instead of going into the hotel, she passed by it, making him pause for a moment and get her attention. She raised her eyebrows at him, matching his expression as he pointed to the hotel lobby.

"Aren't we…?"

"You still have to buy me dinner, remember?" she asked teasingly, walking backwards as she did. He rolled his eyes at her, hoping she had forgotten about that.

"Right, right." he jogged a little to catch up to her, ignoring her gentle push into his side, "Where's this fancy place we're going?"

"You'll see." she sang out, a knowing smile on her face.

He followed her down the rest of the block and she crossed the street over to a food cart that was on the corner. Confused, he crossed over as well, meeting her in front of the food cart. It smelled delicious and spicy and she had a massive grin on her face.

"Tacos." she whispered out, splaying her hands wide and wiggling her fingers toward the food cart that was finishing serving the couple ahead of them. Steve couldn't help but laugh at how much she hyped up the place they were going. He was ready for a fancy steak dinner or something of the sort, but instead she took him to a taco food cart.

She ordered for both of them, but he paid - as previously agreed upon. They got their tacos and a Mexican soda before walking back toward the hotel again. She waited for him to take his first bite; he had never had a taco before or really any Mexican food. And it was delicious and very messy - the fillings kept trying to fall out of the soft shell which made it difficult to both eat and walk for him. She seemed to realize this and, after laughing at him, they sat down on the curb of the street to finish their tacos.

"So how was day one?" she asked around a mouthful of taco. He nodded as he chewed his bite, swallowing before answering.

"So far, so good." he responded, "Thank you, Q. Today has been really fun."

"Good, that's really good to hear." she looked genuinely happy that he was enjoying himself. And he was.

By the time they had actually made it back to the hotel room, it was late - they had stopped at one of the delis for ice cream. And it was clear that she was wiped out from the day of activities. They had done a lot of walking and he knew she was not used to that much physical movement. He stayed quiet, reading one of the books that were in the room while she worked on something for the next day of activities.

At one point, he looked over to see that she had fallen asleep amongst her papers. She was still sitting up - her head was propped up against the headboard and her mouth was open slightly. He moved over to the bed, wanting to organize the papers into a pile on the nightstand so she didn't crumple them in her sleep. Placing a pillow behind her head, he gently set her head back down and held his breath as he did, hoping that the movement didn't wake her. She stayed asleep, head slumping to the side and cheek resting against her shoulder.

Stepping back, he figured he might as well try to fall asleep as well. It had been a long day and he wanted to be well rested for whatever she had planned for the next day. But as usual, he still had a lot of pent up energy and just couldn't get comfortable on the couch. He didn't want to stay in their room; it felt weird and awkward to watch her sleep, so he left the room - making sure he had a room key as he went down to the lobby. He just needed to walk around, tire himself out so he could sleep. Usually he would smoke while he did, like he had before, but Dawson not so nicely told him that the same cigarettes he was given for his asthma now caused cancer.

He didn't make it outside, instead pausing at the entrance of the hotel bar. He didn't know what possessed him to walk into the bar, but he found himself settling down in one of the empty stools and ordering a whiskey neat - just as Bucky did whenever they were at the bar together. It had to be the city. The bartender gave him the drink and he stared at it for a moment, twisting it around in a circle before a voice got his attention,

"Can't sleep?" he looked down the bar to see a woman about Q's age sitting a few seats away from him. Her hair was long and dark, but straight as a razor's edge as it slid down the open back of her dress. It a tight, black dress, revealing a lot more of her olive skin than Steve was used to seeing and paired with high black heels.

"Ah, no." he answered her with a slight laugh, not knowing if it was a rhetorical question or not. She gave him a smile before getting up from her seat only to move down to the empty seat next to him.

"Erica." she extended her hand and he took it with his, shaking it once,

"Steve." he introduced himself, an arrow of panic slicing through his gut; he didn't have his trusty baseball cap with him, she could recognize him in a moment, even with the bar lights being so low. Not only that, but her smile was beginning to make him nervous; he had seen it on women before - when they would flirt with Bucky. Usually he would end up taking them back home and staying there for the night, leaving Steve to walk the woman's friend home before walking home by himself.

"In town for business or pleasure?" she continued with her line of questions.

"A little bit of both?" he responded, his answer sounding more like a question, "I used to live here, but it's been a while since I've been in town." she lifted her chin at him, nodding slightly as the grin stayed on her face.

"How long are you in town for?" she asked, lifting up her glass to her lips. It didn't have much of whatever she was drinking left in it and he knew she was doing that to make a point. Years of watching Bucky taught him well, he just never got the chance to execute anything he had learned. Ladies weren't necessarily lining up to talk to him or wanted him to buy them their next drink.

"Just the weekend." he answered, giving her a nod and rolling his lips in, "With a friend." he added on as an afterthought. He didn't want to be rude to her, but he certainly didn't want to give her the wrong idea. Not that he wasn't interested; he was - she was very beautiful and seemed very interested in him. Her hand found its way to rest on his thigh, which surprised him. He wasn't used to women being so forward with him; usually they never gave him a second look.

"Where's your friend?" she asked, glancing around the bar.

"Oh, she's upstairs." he responded, "Passed out when we got back." Erica pulled her hand away from his thigh, her brows furrowing a bit.

"Wait, like your girlfriend?" she asked, stressing the adjective. Steve quickly shook his head, letting out a little laugh,

"No, no, we're just friends." he repeated what Q had told the woman on the train. Why did so many people assume that he and Q were together? Couldn't men and women be friends these days? Dawson and Q were...

"Oh." Erica responded, interrupting his internal debate with himself. She looked disappointed for some reason, "Right, okay, I'm sorry to have bothered you. I didn't know you were here with someone." she gave him a tight smile, all traces of confidence from a few minutes earlier were gone. He suddenly felt bad and reached out to stop her from leaving,

"You don't have to go." he got her to turn back to face him, "Like I said, she's sleeping upstairs. And I could use some company." he found himself saying, realizing it was true. She gave him a small smile, different from the coy one she had been giving him a few minutes earlier, and settled back down in her seat,

"I'll stay...but only if you buy me another drink." she tapped her glass. He laughed a little and nodded,

"Of course." he agreed, getting her to give him a genuine smile at him as he ordered her another...Mint Mojito and he ended ordering one for himself too; whiskey was always Bucky's drink.

While he was drinking with his new friend, Q suddenly woke up out of her sleep - letting out a sharp gasp at the feeling of her body falling through the air. Her heart pounded against her chest as she took in her surroundings, realizing she was in the hotel room in Brooklyn. Her neck hurt from the uncomfortable angle it had been at while she was sleeping. Rubbing the back of her neck, she looked around the room - only to suddenly realize that Cap was nowhere in the room.

"Fuck." she muttered to herself, scooting off the bed and finding her shoes. She grabbed her room key before heading down to the lobby.

As she waited for the elevator, she tried not to panic. Surely he wouldn't just run off like that. He knew better and she though they were passed that. He trusted her, called her a friend and said that he had a good day - why would he just leave?

Stepping into the lobby, she looked around the main area, knowing he would be easy to spot. He was tall and built like a truck - he stood out in a crowd. But when it was clear he wasn't in the lobby, she started for the doors; she remembered running into him in the middle of the night when he was out for a walk. He admitted to her that he did that sometimes when he couldn't sleep.

She stopped before she got to the door; she heard his laugh. Brow furrowing, she turned to where the sound was coming from - the hotel bar. Creeping forward, she peered around the corner of the doorway, seeing that he was sitting at the bar with some woman around her age. Not only did he stay, he found a new friend. They weren't sitting super close together and his back was to Q, but she could tell how relaxed he was. The woman was grinning at him as she told him a story, motioning with her hands as she did so and Q heard Cap's laugh once more.

Her heart blossomed at the sight of him naturally interacting with the woman. They looked to be having a good time and he didn't seem worried about being recognized without his hat on or anything like that. She watched them for a few more moments before deciding to stop creeping on them. He was fine.

So she turned away from the bar's entrance, the feeling of worry and panic dissipating as she walked back to the elevators. It was replaced by the sense of pride, but tinged with a small sensation that she couldn't quite put her finger on. She ignored it as she got back to the hotel room, changing into her pajamas and getting into the bed once more.


	26. brooklyn pt. 2

For the second time that weekend, she woke up to an empty hotel room. But by the looks of it, she could tell that he had at least been in the room at one point; the couch had a pillow at one end and a blanket strewn across the other half of it. His duffel had obviously been opened and rummaged through and when she got out of bed, she noticed a note written on the pad of hotel paper that was on the desk with a note from him.

Before she could read it, the sound of the room key sliding into the lock followed by the door clicking open got her attention. She turned to see that he was stepping into the room in his workout clothes, carefully balancing a bowl full of small boxes of cereal, a bagel and some fruit in one hand along with two to-go coffee cups stacked on top of each other in the other.

"Morning." he gave her a warm smile as he walked over to her. She tried not to instinctively cover herself, remembering that she was in just a tanktop and a pair of sweats. He lowered his arm a bit, suggesting that the top to-go cup was hers.

"Oh, I don't like -" she started to say she didn't like coffee as she took the cup, but he cut her off,

"I know. It's hot chocolate." he explained, getting her to raise her eyebrows at him.

"Oh, well, thank you." she gave him a smile as she turned back to fold herself on the bed. He followed, walking in front of the bed and holding out the bowl of food.

"They didn't have Lucky Charms and I didn't know what other cereals you liked so I grabbed one of each." his eyes darted around the colorful boxes he had picked out. She smiled to herself before reaching out and plucking one out.

"How was your night?" she asked innocently as she crossed her legs Indian Style on the bed. She used her teeth to open the box of cereal before balancing it in the open space between her legs.

"It was alright." he shrugged, sitting down on the couch, "This is actually pretty comfortable." he patted the couch before relaxing back on it. She hummed, chewing thoughtfully on a handful of cereal before continuing,

"I, uh, woke up at one point and you weren't here." she decided to get straight to the point, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth as she watched him shift on the couch, trying to play it cool, "So I went downstairs to find you at the bar with a lady." she stressed, waggling her eyebrows at him. He rolled his eyes and let out a scoff, shaking his head a bit.

"Nothing happened." he responded, playing it cool.

"Sure, right." she nodded slowly, unconvinced. He pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, shaking his head again,

"We just talked." he flattened his hand down as he explained it, "That was it."

"Okay." she shrugged, hands up going up as her eyes widened slightly, "You just seem a little defensive when apparently nothing happened, Cap." he laughed and sipped his coffee for a long moment before changing the subject,

"Where's my Day Two packet?" he asked, getting a grin from her. Raising her hot chocolate cup in the air so it didn't spill, she rolled over to reach for the papers on the nightstand. She paged through the separated packets before handing one over to him. He got up off the couch and stepped over to take it, staying standing as he flipped through it.

"We're already behind." she mentioned with a sigh, "I wanted to take you out to breakfast but we can do that tomorrow before we leave." He nodded as he continued to look through the packet, "I'm gonna get a shower and get changed and then we'll start the day." she grinned at him before crawling off the bed, leaving her hot chocolate and cereal box on the nightstand.

After quickly showering and getting dressed, she walked out of the bathroom to find Cap rummaging through his duffel bag to try and find something to wear. She paused at the sight of him shirtless, standing over his bag, unaware that she had come out of the bathroom. Her mouth opened slightly at the sight of him; sure she knew he was muscular, of course he was and some of the shirts he wore were a little too tight so it really left nothing to the imagination, but seeing his bare upper body was a whole other story.

Blinking, Q tried to pull herself together - he was her friend and, not only that, he was her assignment, she couldn't be leering at him like that. She cleared her throat as she stood up a bit straighter, getting his attention. He looked over to her and gave her an easy smile before gesturing to his bag,

"I have no idea what I'm supposed to wear today." he admitted.

"Clothes would be a good start." she raised her eyebrows up, trying to play off how she was staring at him, but then he turned to face her fully.

"Oh yeah?" he asked, spreading his arms wide, "I can't just walk around Brooklyn shirtless?" he asked, smirking at her. She swallowed and tried to roll her eyes,

"You're stupid." she laughed lightly, but it sounded a little awkward. He laughed at her reaction, turning back to his duffel bag, "Just wear your usual t-shirt and jeans." she answered him, stepping over to to the duffel bag and pulling out what she wanted along with the matching shoes.

"There are just so many options in here, Q." he sighed out as he took the clothes, "You packed for like five days." he called her out, making her flush a bit. Even though she planned her trips to the minute, she always overpacked, just in case. A safety net, if you will.

"I know." she gave him a pointed look, having hoped he would try some new outfits while they were in the city, "And it was just in case you spilled or something happened to one of the outfits."

"Thanks." Cap grinned at her before moving for the bathroom. Shaking her head, she refocused, trying to put the image of him shirtless out of her mind.

Luckily, it was a pretty sunny day as the two of them made their way to Coney Island. It was where they were going to spend most of their day; there was just so much to do. She thought it would be a good chance to feel like himself - she had heard stories about his trips to Coney Island with Bucky. It seemed like most summers, and even some long weekends were spent visiting.

The beach town clearly held a special place in his heart and she was hoping it would be a good thing rather than a trigger like the Smithsonian was. He had been getting better talking about those sorts of topics ever since their second trip to the museum and she knew he had been back since. In her eyes, it was growth.

She had certainly grown since the last time she had visited Brooklyn. The death of her grandmother took her back to her family, but she hadn't been back to Brooklyn since she had been recruited into SHIELD. The city was where she was probably her worst self - doing things she shouldn't have been doing, being an awful human being. Q was glad it didn't feel like home anymore, but there were still memories that had begun to resurface the more and more time she spent in the city.

The parallels between Cap and her felt a little strange - especially the alley. Where he had been being beat up in for standing up for someone was the same one she had beat someone up in for being a bully. It was a odd to hear that a similar, yet flipped situation happened in that same alley almost seventy years apart. Sometimes she forgot that he had lived a life in her city as well and then found herself wondering what other similar experiences they had.

Since it was such a nice Saturday day, the train to Coney Island was already packed. By the time they got to their stop, it was almost lunchtime. While the crowds started for the beach, they headed the opposite direction. She had listed LUNCH on his itinerary, but hadn't specified where they were going; she wanted it to be a surprise. A few months ago, he had mentioned the best pizza he had ever had was at Totonno's in Coney Island, but what he didn't know was that the pizza joint was still open and under the same ownership.

"Oh, no way." he laughed out as they got to the pizzeria. His hands were in his pockets as he looked over to Q, "Holy shit, it's still here?" he asked, eyebrows raising as excitement came over his face. She had never seen him so happy.

"Well, there was a fire a few years back, but they restored everything and reopened a few months later." she explained, the grin never leaving his face, "Best pizza you ever had, right?"

"I can't believe you remembered, Q." he breathed out, looking back to the building.

"Of course." she smiled at him before waving at him to go inside, "Now, come on, I'm hungry."

The door jingled as the two of them stepped inside. The lunch rush was just starting so she directed him to grab a table while she placed an order for a plain pie. Paying in cash, she grabbed a water and a soda for her before going back over to where he had gotten them a table by the wall. It didn't take long for their pie to come out and the server gracefully slid it down before tossing two paper plates and a stack of napkins down next to it.

"Dig in, get the first slice." she gestured to Cap, who had been looking around the pizza shop with a smile on his face. He did what she asked and she followed suit, grabbing a slice and folding it in one hand before taking a bite out of the tip, then moving up to take a bite out of the crust.

"Why do you do that?" he asked through a mouthful of pizza, "Take a bite out of both ends?" he motioned to her with his pizza filled hand.

"Dunno." she shrugged, "Always ate it like this." she gave him a grin before taking another bite, "So? Still live up to the title of best pizza?" she asked, reaching for another slice before she even finished her first. She had never been to the pizza parlor - it was good, but it certainly wasn't the best pizza she had ever had. But this trip was more about Cap, than her.

"It's somehow even better." he pulled the corners of his mouth down as he examined the pizza slice in his hand. She grinned at him before finishing off her first slice.

The pizza joint seemed to light a fire under his ass; he was much more talkative than he had been during their first day - telling her stories about him and Bucky and the shit they would get up to whenever they visited Coney Island. When it was first built, it was primarily for the richer, upper middle class, but with the completion of the subway system, it allowed Bucky and him to go for only a nickel. The beach got so crowded at some points that it would be hard to even find a space to put a towel down, but - according to him, it didn't stop Bucky from finding two girls with extra room, or who didn't mind sitting on Bucky's lap.

Another place the two of them frequented back in the thirties was Feltman's, that charged only ten cents for a hotdog. She listened as he told yet another story about him and Bucky squandering their train money for hotdogs. Though that story turned into one about a visit to the shooting gallery where Bucky impressed whichever girl who was watching; according to Cap, Bucky was the best shot he had ever seen.

"He must've wasted at least hundreds of nickels and dimes on these games." he said as they walked down the boardwalk, "Just trying to show off or impress a pretty girl." he laughed to himself at a memory he didn't share.

"What about you?" she asked, slipping her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, "Ever show off or try to impress a pretty girl, Cap?" she continued, raising her eyebrows at him. He laughed again and shook his head, a blushing appearing,

"Nah, well, I tried-" he backtracked, motioning with his hand, "But they were never impressed."

"I'm sure they're cursing themselves now." she grinned at him. He gave her a bashful smile, glancing down at the ground before looking straight ahead. She nudged him as they passed by a booth, "C'mon, impress me, Cap." He raised his eyebrows at her before looking at where they had stopped in front of. It was a booth where one had to throw a ball to knock all the milk bottles over. He looked back at her with a grin,

"I feel like that's too easy."

"Oh? Banking on your super soldier strength, hmm?" she fired back, raising her eyebrows up. He shrugged, "Alright, fine, fine." she raised her hands up, "You just think you're too good for some boardwalk games now, I get it." she taunted, making him groan.

"Okay, fine." he shoved his hands into his pockets, turning to the booth. She grinned at him, following him over to the counter. She handed over three dollars so he could get three balls back.

"Well, it certainly isn't a nickel anymore." he huffed under his breath, getting a pointed look from her,

"Jar." she said as he picked up one of the rubber balls. He gently tossed it toward the milk bottle pyramid and it hit the bottles, making them wiggle slightly. She laughed a little as he squinted at the bottles, clearly thinking his throw would've knocked them down.

The second time, he wound up, pitching the ball with some force behind it. It slammed into the center of the pyramid, knocking them down. She let out a cheer as the bottles clattered to the ground and he grinned at her before taking his last ball to try and get the last six bottles down at once. She watched as he adjusted his stance, then flung the ball diagonally across the rest of the bottles. The ball sliced through the bottom pairs of the milk bottles, making them all clatter down on top of one another.

Clapping, she congratulated him as the booth runner handed him a small, stuffed Captain America doll - blissfully unaware of the irony. She giggled to herself as he took it, turning it over his hands as he smiled at it.

"Well, color me impressed." she said as they walked away from the booth. He laughed at her comment before handing over the stuffed toy,

"Here." he offered her, making her look down at what he was offering before back up at him.

"Oh, no, I can't take that." she shook her head, raising her hands up as she did.

"No, come on." he shook the toy at her, "You should have it."

"I already have one." she grinned at him, even though it was a lie - and he knew that, but gave in with a sigh.

"Alright, fine." he dropped it, "Can I at least put it in your bag?" he asked. She nodded, opening her messenger bag so he could stuff it in there.

Continuing down the boardwalk, they made their way to the ride portion of the island. It cost her twenty bucks for both of them to ride the Cyclone, but the look on his face during the ride made it all worth it.

"The last time I was on that thing - I threw up." he laughed as they walked off the ride platform.

"I one hundred percent believe that, Cap." she grinned at him.

"Bucky made me ride it," he shook his head, still laughing a bit, "I really didn't want to because we just ate, but he was insistent." she laughed at his story, leading him through the park. She stopped at the sight of a photo-booth off to the side where a couple was coming out of.

Grabbing his arm to make him stop walking, she pulled herself closer to him and pointed to where she wanted to go next,

"We gotta." she stated seriously, looking at him. He had a half smile on his face as he looked from the photo-booth to her,

"I think that thing's been here longer than I have." he joked, making her smile. She grabbed his hand, pulling him through the sweaty crowd as they got to the photo-booth.

Since it was an older version, it was smaller than she was normally used to. He was a big guy to begin with so it really made for a tight squeeze inside the booth. She tried to maneuver herself so he had some space but he figured out her problem and fixed it by lifting her up - making her let out a noise of surprise and then setting her down so she was perched on his thigh. She kept her balance with one hand on the side wall as she leaned forward to pay it with quarters.

Sitting back, she looked over at him, not expecting him to be so close - so she let out a surprised breath, then grinned at him.

"Okay, focus up." she said seriously. He nodded at her, an equally serious expression on his face. She grinned at him before turning back to the camera, "Nice smile first." The machine counted down by flashing one, two, three lightbulbs and then the picture took.

The second one: funny faces.

Third: she reached around from behind to his face and covered his eyes with her hands, making him laugh.

Fourth: she tried to make her non-existent biceps flex while he rested his chin on her arm and made an impressed face.

He helped her out of the booth and they waited for their photo-strips to develop. Once two fell out, she gave one to him and looked over the strip in her hand, laughing a little. The photos looked ridiculous, but they were fun - and she heard him laugh to himself at their different expressions. He pulled out his wallet, slipping the strip into the back section before pushing his wallet back into his jeans pocket.

"What next?" he asked as she checked her watch - they had time for one more activity before they needed to take the train back to the hotel so they could change for dinner.

"Ferris Wheel." she said firmly, pairing it with a just as firm nod. His eyebrows raised as he looked to the Ferris Wheel. She grinned at him before they moved toward the ride.

The ride pulled them backwards and the cart swung with the movement. She held onto the railing as he looked across the island, hands in his lap. The two of them were quiet as they slowly rose to the top, stopping every so often so others could get on or off.

"Thank you." he said as they climbed to the top, getting her attention, "I didn't think I would ever be back here - do these things again. I thought it would be too hard." he admitted with a small smile, "I shared so much of my life here with Bucky and I didn't want to ruin those memories." she nodded at him, understanding what he meant. He placed his hand on top of hers on the railing, "But if anything, today just reminded me of everything and somehow made those memories even clearer." he continued, "And I liked making new ones with you." he said sincerely. She gave him a real smile they reached the top of the Ferris Wheel, feeling her heart flutter at the small compliment.

The day had been long, but fun. And she felt like more and more of his personality was coming out - his actual personality. Steve Rogers, not the personality he gave himself to keep up the Captain America act. He was sarcastic and real, not afraid to make jokes at her expense. She was finally getting to know him as Steve Rogers, regular dude - not the fake Steve Rogers, who was also Captain America.

Back at the hotel, the two got ready for their dinner reservations. It was a fancy restaurant where Q was ready to abuse her SHIELD company card. She got ready in the bathroom, stepping out after he was dressed. He paused at the sight of her, eyebrows raising slightly; she was wearing a nice navy blue halter dress that flowed out and down to right above her knees.

"Everything okay?" she asked, pausing at his reaction, looking down at herself to make sure there were no stains on her dress or anything like that. He blinked at her, then nodded, giving her a smile,

"You look very pretty." he complimented her, which made her blush a little. She thanked him and returned the compliment before they left the room for dinner.

Dinner was fancy, but they sure as hell weren't. His booming laughter bounced around the room as she drank too much wine. They shared an appetizer before ordering their meals. He tried some of hers and she tried some of his. They talked about the city and she continued to learn that he experienced some of the same things she did, having been to the same places she had been to. They shared stories, both of their Brooklyn accents becoming more pronounced as they recounted their tales. She had never heard him laugh or seen him smile as much as she did that night.

On their walk back to the hotel, she let the silence fall over them comfortably. His hands were in his slacks pockets while her heels were dangling from her fingers - no longer being the exact same height as him. The night was cool and clear, there were people walking around them, but no one paid any attention to them.

Every so often, he would point out familiar looking buildings, followed by a quick anecdote about something that had happened to him in the past. She liked the mental image he gave her - picturing pre-serum Cap playing wallball or selling newspapers or even walking down the street with Bucky.

"This used to be a dance club." he said, stopping in front of a building.

"Oh yeah?" she asked, looking up at the brick building.

"Well, underneath." he explained, gesturing to the steps that led down, "It was the one Bucky and I would always go to with the girls." he began his story, "I didn't do much dancing, but Bucky did." he smiled to himself as he remembered something, "One time he had two girls on each arm and somehow managed to keep up with both."

"Hey, no offense, but your friend Bucky sounds like quite the player." she joked, laughing a little as she crossed her arms over her chest. He laughed along with her before answering,

"Nah," he shook his head, pulling the corners of his mouth, "He came off that way, but he was practically in love with every girl he met." he smiled slightly, "He had a good heart." he nodded to himself then he gestured to the building, "A lot of good memories in there." he sighed, hand going back into his pocket. She paused for a moment before looking at him,

"Wanna break in?" she asked, eyebrows raising.

"What?" he looked over at her, meeting her eyes, "No, I mean, we can't -"

"Sure we can." she shrugged, stepping in front of him, toward the stairs, "Come on." she grinned at him before walking down the stairs. Going into her purse, she pulled out a credit card and grabbed the doorknob. She felt him behind her, watching as she jimmied the card into the crack in the door, twisting the knob as she moved the card against the doorknob. A few moments later, the card pressed against the latch and unlocked itself.

"Aha!" she grinned at him victoriously as she opened the door.

"Where did you learn how to do that?" he asked, following her inside. She spotted the security pad and went over to it, quickly disengaging the alarm, "And that?" he asked, noticing she hadn't used any tools.

"Would you believe me if I said it was because I got locked out of my house a lot?" she asked, wincing a little. She didn't want to tell him that she had learned by experience - picking locks and disabling security alarms was her job during the B&Es her little high school friend group had pulled together.

"I wouldn't, but if you asked me to, I would." he said seriously and she gave him a grateful smile in return.

"Most people never change the alarm systems' passcode so usually it's 1234 but sometimes you have to look at the numbers most worn out on the pad," she explained as she flicked the lights on, "It's a patterns game that you only get a few tries at. Luckily, these people used zero-zero-zero-zero as their code." she grinned at him as they stepped into the main room. The dance club was no longer a dance club, but it was as dance studio, "Looks like they kept the original theme." she said, noticing the wall of mirrors.

"Looks like it." he said as she walked to the middle of the room before turning back to look at him,

"Wanna dance?" she asked, holding out her hand. He laughed a little, hands going to his hips,

"I don't know how." she shrugged at his answer,

"Neither do I." he laughed again, head shaking as he moved closer to her, "Come on, we can look it up." she pulled her phone from her purse, pulling up YouTube and quickly typing in 30's dance style.

As the video played he watched from over her shoulder and she tried her hardest to memorize the moves as they went. Then, setting the phone up against her purse, she picked a song from the YouTube playlist and gestured for him to meet her out on the middle of the floor. He took her hand and she placed his hand against her hip, keeping a safe distance in between the two of them. They fumbled for a second, not knowing who was leading where and then it just got more embarrassing as they tripped over each other, stepped on each other's toes and ended in a fit of laughter.

"We're terrible at this!" she laughed as he stepped away from her, an amused grin on his face, "It's fine that I'm bad at this, but you!" she gestured to him, "You should at least know it, Cap." He rolled his eyes at her, placing his hands on his hips,

"Right, cause I'm so sure you know all the popular dances from when you were a teen." he challenged. She laughed again, shaking her head,

"I don't know many." she answered, shuffling her feet in front and then behind her, "I can do Thriller, but just this part -" she raised her hands up in the air, clapping them together before shimmying down as she spread her arms apart, "The Running Man." Again, she demonstrated as he laughed at her, "Oh, always a favorite-" she mimicked a sprinkler: one arm out, the other bent as she rotated. His laughs continued, "Do you wanna see the Star Spangled Man number? I'm completely sober this time so it'll be amazing." he shook his head, hands going up as if to stop her before she even started, "Then I got nothing else." she sighed, dropping her arms, "Used to be able to walk on my hands, but I doubt I can anymore. Even used to be able to do a backwards walkover." she dropped to the ground, pushing her chest up as she supported herself with her hands and feet flat on the ground. She tried kicking up and over, but couldn't support herself. He laughed at her from where he stood above her. She lowered her body to the ground, sitting up and crossing her legs Indian style.

"Used to?" he asked, offering a hand to help her up.

"I was a pretty good gymnast back in the day." she nodded to herself as she took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet.

"Why'd you stop?" he asked, stepping back from her and slipping his hands into his pockets,

"Spite." she answered casually, pairing it with a shrug, "My parents kept pushing me which made me want to do it less and less so I just quit." she shrugged again as a silence came over them. Then she gasped, thinking of an idea, "Dirty Dancing."

"Excuse me?" he asked as she hurried over to her phone, tapping away at it,

"Remember that movie we watched about the summer dance competition with Swayze?" she asked, motioning to him with one hand.

"Yeah…" Cap trailed off, arms crossing over his chest, "Nobody puts Baby in a corner, right?" he referenced the movie they had watched a few weeks ago.

"Exactly." she gave him a thumbs up before pressing play on the song, "Catch me." His eyes widened, hands coming out of his pants' pockets. His eyes were trained on her as she moved across the room, putting space between them.

"Catch you?" he repeated, sounding unsure.

"Like at the end of the movie." she gestured to him, "Catch and lift." wanting the pieces to click before the song hit the part where she had to run at him. His eyes stayed wide, but he set his stance. She grinned at him before readying herself for a moment, waiting for the beat and then taking off toward him.

At the last second, she jumped at him, feeling his hands catch her waist. He lifted her up above his head, eyes locked on hers as her yelp echoed around the empty dance studio. She kicked her legs out, trying to keep her balance momentarily as she extended her arms out. He held her steady, not even looking fazed or strained, almost like she weighed nothing at all. She grinned at him as he slowly lowered her down to the ground. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders as her bare feet brushed the floors.

"If you can do that, you can certainly figure out how to dance." she said, a bit breathless. Her heart was pounding against her chest as he looked at her with a small grin.

"I think we can figure it out." he agreed, hands still on her waist.

And they did. It took almost an hour, but they figured it out. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than where they had started. The playlist changed to a slower tune and he held her closer, hand on her waist, other hand holding hers.

"Think you'll be able to impress the ladies now?" she asked, almost teasingly. He smiled at her, nodding,

"I think so, yes." he answered. They shared a smile before he spun her out, making her let out a surprised noise before he spun her back in - laughing at her reaction.

The song ended after a few minutes, but he still held her close, swaying to a silent beat. Close enough she could swear he could feel her heart beating. It was the closest they had ever been - sans piggy back rides. It felt...intimate. Her throat tightened up at the thought and she let her eyes dart up to his before looking back down at his chest, almost like she was worried he had heard her thought out loud. She pushed the thought away, replacing it with one more explanatory: that he felt comfortable enough with her to hold her at such close quarters. Nothing more, nothing less.

A cab took them back to the hotel, where Cap let her shower first and she came out wrapped in a big, fluffy white robe, modeling it for him with her hair tied up in a high bun. She ordered room service and raided the minibar as she waited for him.

Donning a matching big, fluffy white robe, he came out of the bathroom several minutes later. She grinned at him from her spot on the bed and then patted the open space, indicating he should sit with her. He did, placing himself at the opposite end and extending his legs out so his feet were by the headboard. She handed him a few pillows so he could prop himself up on along with some treats from the minibar.

They sat in silence for a few moments before she prompted him, "Say what's in your head." he looked over at her, eyebrows raising before he let out a slow breath,

"Just that I had a really great time this weekend." he gave her a small smile, "And I hate to see it end."

"You can always come back." she waved around her Kit-Kat bar, "Even without me."

"Maybe." he nodded, agreeing with her just so she would move on. She gave him a quick smile before taking a bite out of her candy. "You were right." he said after a moment of quiet. His eyes met hers, "You were right about me being hung up on Peggy." She paused, mid bite of her Kit-Kat, not expecting the turn in conversation, "I guess I'm just scared about moving on to someone new, you know? I don't want to...betray her." he finished seriously, eyes shifting away from hers.

"You wouldn't be betraying her, Cap." she responded, keeping her voice soft, "You have to remember that she moved on too. She had a whole life and, well, you should be able to live yours too." she put it plainly, "She would want you to, you know." she said, not knowing it that were true or not, but she felt like it was. His eyes darted over to hers and he gave her a small smile,

"Yeah, you're right." he agreed with a slight nod. She gave him a smile, resting her head back against the headboard of the bed. She went quiet for a moment and this time, it was his turn to prompt her,

"Say what's in your head."

"You were right too." she answered after a moment, seeing his eyebrows raise up. She took in a breath before explaining, "These past few months, I thought I knew what I was doing - helping you. And I convinced myself that I was helping you as Steve not as Captain America but that conversation we had the other week…" she trailed off as she referenced their argument, "I went back and looked through my packets, my graphs, my notes and...I was wrong." she raised her shoulders up, looking at him sadly, "I may have convinced myself that I was helping you adjust as a modern man, but really, I was just helping you be a better SHIELD asset." she paused, "And I'm sorry for that." she apologized, trying to control her emotions.

"No, don't be." he shook his head slightly, raising his hand from his beer, "You helped me more than anyone else ever could." he said, looking at her seriously, "If it wasn't for you, I'd still be stuck here in New York, longing for days that have already passed." he gave her a small smile, "You've done so much, Q." he said sincerely. She gave him a small smile, feeling a little vulnerable and slouching down against the headboard. She wasn't used to getting compliments and she had been getting a lot of them from him over the weekend.

Luckily, the serious heart to hearts ended there; they spent the rest of the night telling stories and laughing at the randomest of things. She had never been this open with anyone ever - including Dawson. Sure, she stayed away from the more serious topics (why she ended up in jail, etc.) but the Cap seemed to enjoy hearing about her life growing up in the city and all the hijinks she got up to.

History had always painted him as this stand up, do-gooder who never did anything wrong in his life. Someone who was innocent and pure hearted, but the more she heard him talk, the more she came to the conclusion that he was nothing like that at all. Yes, he was a good person and did the right things, but they might always be what was societally right. He followed his heart, his gut, and stood up for people - never backing down from a fight and always treating everyone right. It was something to be admired.

"If we had grown up in the city at the same time," she started, picking at the label of her beer bottle, "do you think we would've been friends?" she asked, looking over at where he laid, propped up against the pillows. She knew she wasn't the kindest or the best when she was growing up; she was kind of an asshole, so she expected his answer to be no. He took in a breath, thinking to himself for a moment before looking back at her,

"Maybe." she raised her eyebrows at him, waiting for him to explain, "I think you and Bucky would've gotten along, that's for sure." he added, "You two are a lot alike."

"Well, then wouldn't that mean that you and I would get along too?" she asked, brow furrowing a little. He laughed lightly,

"Maybe." he repeated himself, "I'd like to hope so, but you never know." she gave him a look, knowing it was a cop-out answer. He raised his eyebrows at her, understanding her silent look and following it up with "We're friends now, right? So that's all that matters." she rolled her eyes at him, taking a swig of her beer as he changed the subject.

Q wasn't sure what time it was when they had fallen asleep, but she woke up to find herself face to face with Cap. She didn't remember falling asleep together, but it had happened and she wasn't upset about it. He was still sleeping - almost peacefully, sans the small furrow in his brow. Otherwise, he looked...pretty normal. Like nothing had ever happened to him: not the war, the plane crash, the battle of New York and whatever battles he went up against day to day in his head and in reality. If she didn't know any better, she would've thought she had woken up next to a regular, twenty-nine year old man. Not a ninety-five year old super soldier who had saved the world over and over and would do it again if he needed to. Oddly, she felt at peace, knowing he was at peace. Her heart thumped warmly and she couldn't help but smile slightly at how soft and warm he looked.

The corners of his mouth twitched, like he knew she was watching him. His mouth opened before his eyes did, mumbling out a "Watching me sleep, huh? This is new." she grinned at him as he opened his eyes to look at her.

She had seen them up close before - a few hours ago to be precise, but the way the morning light bounced off of them made them almost sparkle. And then she noticed that there was a bit of green in the otherwise blue of his eyes. The feeling inside of her made it clear that she hadn't found a flaw, but it was almost like finding a secret. The world knew so much about him, but this felt like a secret only she knew.

After checking out of their hotel and stopping for breakfast, the two of them made it onto the train back to DC. They kept to themselves: him sketching in his book while she caught up on emails. About halfway home, Steve felt something land on his bicep. He glanced over, thinking it was her trying to annoy him, but instead he found that it was her head. She had fallen asleep and gravity had pulled her neck down and to the side - so she landed right on his bicep. He paused for a moment, unsure if she was going to wake up or if he should wake her up.

But he decided against it; she wasn't doing any harm and it wasn't uncomfortable for him. So he let her sleep there, all the way back to DC.


	27. common ground

Holding her half empty glass of wine firmly, she moved off of the couch to go answer the door. She figured it was the pizza they ordered a little while ago - it hadn't been over thirty minutes which meant she still had to pay for it, but it had been a while. Opening the door, she finished what she had been saying before looking at who was on the other side.

Letting out a surprised yelp, Q quickly shut her apartment door just as quickly as she opened it. She spun around - one hand still on the doorknob, the other on her wine glass, and looked at where Sharon sat on her couch with wide eyes. The two of them were having a wine night, talking about anything besides work.

"It's Natasha." Q hissed out, eyes practically bugging out of her head. Sharon almost choked on her wine,

"Natasha?" she asked back.

"As in Natasha Romanoff, do you know any other Natasha's?" she snapped back, beginning to freak out, "What is she doing here? Why is she here? How does she know where I live?" she fired off. There were only four people in SHIELD who knew where she lived: Dawson, Rumlow, Sharon and then Cap. And now apparently, Natasha. So five.

"You know, you could ask her all these questions if you let her in." Sharon pointed out, getting an unamused look from her. Taking in a deep breath, she turned back to the door and opened it, forcing a smile on her face. Natasha raised an eyebrow at her sudden reappearance.

"Nat, hi." she greeted the woman, "Sorry, I just wasn't expecting you." Natasha gave her an amused smile, pairing with a nod,

"Uh, I figured as much since you slammed the door in my face, suit." Q's smile faltered a bit as the back of her neck became warm.

The SHIELD agent never failed to terrify her both inside and outside of the Triskelion. She hated that, but a voice inside her head reminded her that it was a way of survival. It was protecting her, forcing her from doing anything stupid against the woman; that would put in her harm's' way. Still, she knew that Natasha wouldn't do anything to hurt her - they were on the same side and based on her analysis, she knew deep down, Natasha just wanted (needed) them to be friends. It was just a matter of finding common ground.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, pulling herself up a bit straighter and trying to keep some semblance of professionalism in her own home. Even knowing all that, it was still in her best interest to act cautious toward the woman; she didn't know the reasoning behind this surprise visit.

"Well, you've been back from your weekend in Brooklyn for two days now…" she trailed off with a sly smirk, "and I want to know everything that happened." There was a pause before she lifted her arm up, showing what she had brought with her, "I brought tequila." she said as if that was enough to warrant an invitation inside.

"Come on in!" Sharon called from her spot on the couch. Natasha's eyes flicked over Q's shoulder to see where she was and her face broke out into a grin. Looking back at Q, she waited for a moment as Q took in a breath and then stepped to the side, letting Natasha in.

"Nothing happened, Nat." she defended herself as she shut the door and followed her over to the living room.

"That's not what Rogers said…" Nat sang out as she set the bottle of tequila down before digging her hands into leather jacket pockets to produce two shot glasses, "He said you two had a great time with the biggest smile on his face." she smirked as Q tried not to turn as red as a tomato, "So either it was actually a great weekend or you two just spent the weekend in bed." Sharon let out a dramatic gasp, getting Q to roll her eyes as Natasha's smirk got wider, "Either way, I wanna know."

"I do too!" Sharon chimed in, raising her wine glass up and tucking her feet under herself on the couch. Q shot her a look; both of them knew it would be in the report at the end of the week, but still the blonde tried to look innocent.

"Okay, let's get one thing straight, we didn't spend the weekend in bed." she quickly defended herself, arms crossing over her chest, "That would be unprofessional." she continued, giving both women serious looks. She tried to hold her ground, appear as a professional SHIELD analyst in front of Agent Carter's niece and one of the most intimidating women in the world, even though they were in her apartment. Sharon held up her hands while Natasha seemed to have a permanent smirk on her face.

"So what did you two do?" she asked, eyebrows waggling. She paused, looking over to Natasha before setting down her wine glass on the coffee table.

"Let's open that tequila first." she stated, almost teasing the two women. If she was about to tell this story, she was going to be in control of the narrative. Sharon cheered before getting off the couch to go get herself a shot glass as Natasha grinned at her.

With the first shot settling in her, the feeling of intimidation slowly slipped away. The second helped even more; she wasn't as afraid of Natasha as she was when she was completely sober. Instead, she saw her as a woman, a friend, with an intense set of skills that were to be respected - not feared. Sitting on the floor of her apartment, she appeared as nothing more than your average mid-twenty year old woman, getting drunk with two of her friends: just like the other two of them.

Not immediately getting into the Brooklyn trip, the three women instead started with past accounts involving tequila and bad decisions. Which then led to other stories of bad decisions in general. More stories were swapped between the three women and it became obvious that they had gone through some similar experiences. Not exact ones; Q had never been outside the country, Natasha hadn't gone to high school and Sharon hadn't killed anyone - that they were aware of at least.

The three women all existed in the same world, but came into it in different ways. Q through adoption, Natasha through redemption and Sharon through legacy. They worked in different divisions: Q as an analyst, Natasha as an Avenger and Sharon as an Agent. They had different personalities, builds, attitudes - really it was a joke waiting to happen (a blonde, brunette and a redhead all sitting in an apartment, drinking tequila…) Yet, despite their differences, the three of them found commonality in their experiences both in and out of SHIELD.

Swapping tales with Sharon was one thing, but swapping them with Natasha was a whole different ordeal. Thanks to the tequila giving her a bit of liquid courage, Q had no problem talking about things she had done pre-SHIELD. Knowing all the things Natasha had done in the past with the KGB or the Red Room, she didn't feel as though she should be embarrassed or ashamed of what she had done; Natasha had no room to judge her. And she didn't.

Still, when the conversation turned to the Brooklyn trip, Q kept her wits about her. She didn't need any rumors starting about what had or hadn't happened during their Brooklyn trip. What she and Cap had done, what the two of them had shared together felt personal. A bit more personal than talking about the time she rappelled down from the roof of her high school after stealing test answers (not for herself, but to sell to others). Even though it was part of her job, she knew that she wasn't going to include everything in her report - just summarizing the main points. Natasha seemed disappointed that nothing juicy had happened while Sharon looked somewhat relieved.

"I do feel bad though." she suddenly said from her position on the ground. Her lower back was against her floor as she stared up at the ceiling, her head was resting in Natasha's lap. Her hand trailed down over Q's head in a gentle motion that she didn't mind one bit - though usually she would be slightly terrified at the thought of Natasha having her in such a vulnerable position. Sharon was across from them on the floor, propped up by the couch.

"Why?" Natasha asked, pouring herself another shot.

"Because I'm lying to him!" she yelled out, covering her hands with her face as she heard Sharon's laugh, "Hey!" she pointed over at her friend, "So are you." she said seriously.

"How?" she laughed again before reaching back to tie her blonde hair up in a ponytail.

"Kate." she answered with a scowl, knowing Sharon understood what she meant.

"Who's Kate?" Natasha piped up, looking down at Q. Rolling her eyes up, she met her gaze and let out a dramatic sigh,

"Sharon's cover story. She's Cap's protection, but he just thinks she's just a nurse." she mumbled out sadly.

"Well, I don't think that's lying." Natasha answered with a casual shrug, pulling the corners of her mouth down, "Cover stories are different than lies." she said as if she had experience. Q ignored her, continuing with her thought,

"And now! I think he's got a crush on her!" she looked over to Sharon, who was trying not to blush, looking into her wine glass.

"Oooooh, now that's interesting." Natasha responded, her practically trademark smirk reappearing on her face.

"We barely interact." Sharon put her hand up as she shook her head, "It's just friendly neighbor banter."

"It's flirting!" Q gasped out, ready to argue with her friend, "I saw it with my own two eyes, Sharon!" Natasha laughed as she took another shot, handing one to her, who took it dutifully, "It's almost as bad as Dawson and Nat." she continued after swallowing the tequila with a wince. Sharon gasped, eyes shifting over to Natasha. With a grin, Q looked up at Natasha, feeling her hand still on her head, "C'mon…" she sang out, "What's going on between you two?"

"I don't kiss and tell, ladies." she answered coyly before taking another shot of tequila, "But there is something going on." she teased, getting cheers from the other women.

Once the bottles of tequila and wine were empty, the three of them hung out for a bit longer - finishing up the pizza that had finally arrived, before they went their separate ways. Sharon hugged Q goodbye, thanking her for the girls' night. Then Natasha gave her a kiss on the cheek, reminding her that they would see each other in the morning.

And, boy, was that morning rough. She barely made it to the Triskelion in time to meet Cap there before his training with Natasha. Forcing a smile, she pretended not to be hungover as he asked her about her night - she vaguely answered with "girls' night." which he took, even though she could tell her was kind of surprised by her answer. He had every right to be; as far as he knew, the only friends she had were him and Dawson.

"Good morning, suit!" Natasha crooned as she walked into the training center with him. She tried not to wince at the level and pitch of her voice. While she was driving the struggle bus thanks to her hangover, the other woman seemed perfectly fine - no hint of dealing with the amount of alcohol she consumed the prior night.

Noticing her reaction to Natasha's greeting, he laughed at her, realizing that she was in fact hungover. He gave her an amused grin as they made their way over to the mats Natasha was stretching out on, nudging her as they went,

"Did your girls' night include drinking, Q?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at her.

"Shhhhhh." she shushed him, her eyes squinting, "Don't talk to me." she whispered, "Just go punch things." she waved her hand toward the mat. She made eye contact with Natasha, who gave her a shit-eating grin and then a knowing wink.

Settling herself on the chair in the corner, she set her bag on the ground before pulling out a bottle she had filled with Pedialyte and a packet of peanut butter crackers. Her brain was too tired to do her usual crossword or Sudoku puzzle so she settled back in the metal chair, watching them begin to warm-up.

While he mainly used his shield as both a weapon and a defense in fights, his work with Natasha was more about learning how to fight if and when he was disarmed. They worked through the combinations she taught him the day before, always building on whatever was already taught. Both were a good match for each other and sometimes, she couldn't help but wonder if Natasha was also secretly a super soldier. She had read her file - thanks to Dawson, and knew all about her time in the KGB and what happened in the Red Room. SHIELD was just as much a second chance for her as it was for Q.

As she sipped on her Pedialyte, she watched the two of them spar. At first, she felt like she was intruding - since she never watched them so intently like this before. But that faded once she realized they weren't even paying attention to her; they were focused on learning the moves and executing them in a successful way. Her eyes followed as they moved around each other, hearing the thumps as they hit the mat and trying to figure out what their next moves would be based on the patterns she had already seen. While she tried to keep her attention divided evenly, her eyes kept drifting back to Cap more often than not.

His moves were sharp and direct, meant to take down his opponent. Natasha was quick to retaliate, forcing him to make choices and move in other ways. Other ways that meant putting him in compromising positions that certainly made her choke on her drink once or twice. When he gave her a concerned look, she waved him off; he didn't need to know that it was his fault.

Just like when she saw his bare muscles back in the hotel room in Brooklyn, she always knew he was a good fighter. She had seen the footage from the war, from the attack on New York and he told her stories of when he would try to fight the bullies in the back alleys - he had basic fighting skills that were enhanced when he was given the serum. Now, it was about refining them.

A part of her felt the same way she did in Brooklyn when she saw him shirtless - like she was a creeper. But another part of her brain rationalized that she was doing her job. Watching him during his workout with Natasha was a part of her job; he was her assignment, she needed to know how he was responding to the training. If it was helping or not, that way she could adjust her approaches if necessary. So far the training seemed to be working very well.

After the training session, they all went their separate ways. She needed to write up her report from their trip Brooklyn so it would be ready for their Friday Fury meeting. He had a visit with Agent Carter planned. So they agreed to meet at his apartment later that evening for their daily talk. She spent the rest of her day in her office, both nursing her hangover and getting to the end of her report without any interruptions. Usually Dawson always found the most inopportune moments to distract her, but there was no sign of him. In fact, he hadn't bothered her at all since she had gotten back from Brooklyn three days prior.

Before she left the Triskelion for Cap's apartment, she stopped by Ops to try find him at his computer terminal. His terminal was empty and his screens were dark. The only way she knew he had been there at one point was because of the several empty Red Bull cans that were lined up in front of his screens. Screwing her mouth to the side, she glanced around the floor before exiting the deck. She took the elevator down to the Weapons floor, figuring he would be in his lab.

"Where have you been?" she asked as she stepped into the lab. He was fiddling with some sort of chip, glancing to the computer screen it was hooked up to every so often.

"Working." he answered tonelessly, "Unlike some people, I don't get to go gallivanting around Brooklyn with Captain America." he looked over his shoulder at her. She rolled her eyes at his thinly disguised insult,

"Don't be shitty." she responded, crossing her arms over her chest. He scoffed at her before turning back to the chip. She watched the schematics on the screen react to whatever he was poking at in the chip. "What are you working on?"

"A safety net." he answered as if she should know exactly what it was, "Do you need something?" he continued, sounding slightly annoyed, even though she knew he wasn't really.

"No, no." she raised her eyebrows at his back, "Just checking in. Saying hey."

"Hey." he stressed, glancing over his shoulder at her and matching her expression, "Happy?"

"Very." she grinned at him, getting an eye roll from him, "I, uh, hung out with Natasha last night." she said casually, leaning against the lab table.

"I know." his eyebrows went up quickly before he refocused back on the chip, "She told me you had some sort of girls' night with Sharon." he glanced over to her with a smirk, obviously pleased with himself that he knew before she could surprise him with it. She crossed her arms over her chest, opening her mouth slightly,

"Well, did she tell you that she told us alllll about you two?" she smirked right back at him, already anticipating his reaction. Not that there was much Natasha had actually said in regards to her relationship with Dawson, but it was still fun to watch him squirm.

"Oh, yeah?" he asked, trying to appear casual but his eyes and posture deceived him, "What'd she say?" His fingers twitched a little while his eyes darted from her to his chip and he pulled his shoulders back a bit, clearly there was something going on between them.

"Oh, you know," she shrugged casually, pulling the corners of her mouth down, "Just stuff." she grinned at him, getting him to roll his eyes at her.

"God, shut up." he muttered, seeing through her teasing and knowing she didn't have anything to tell, "Don't you have a defrosted super soldier to talk to? Go bother him instead." he waved his hand at her, shooing her away.

"Tell Natasha I said hi." she teased as she walked backward. He raised his free hand up over his shoulder, flipping her off as she left the lab.

Letting herself into Cap's apartment, she found him in the kitchen pulling things out of the fridge for his dinner. He gave her a warm smile as a greeting, letting her walk in and place her things on the table before going to the breakfast bar to watch him.

"What are you making tonight?" she asked. Most times she came over after he was finished eating, but sometimes she was early enough to catch him making dinner. He had bought himself a few cookbooks over the past month and a half and had been steadily working through them.

"Nothing too complicated," he started, bringing out a carton of eggs, "I was actually thinking you could help me." Q laughed at him, then shook her head.

"No, no, trust me, you don't want me in the kitchen." she put her hands up, backing away from the breakfast bar. He was very much aware of the lack of cooking skills she had.

"It's a really simple recipe, Q, I think you can handle it." he tried to convince her to help him, "And I'll be right here the whole time." he added assuringly. She eyed him for a moment before taking in a breath,

"Fine," she let it out dramatically, "Just make sure you know where your fire extinguisher is, Cap." she warned. He grinned at her as she shrugged out of her blazer and rolled the sleeves of her button up up to her elbows.

Stepping into the kitchen, he made sure she washed her hands before she touched anything. He had most of the ingredients out already and instructed her what to do with them. She carefully sliced up the chicken breast into strips, feeling his watchful eye on her the whole time.

"You're making me nervous." she muttered as she focused on the cutting.

"I'm just trying to make sure you don't slice your finger off, Q." he answered simply. With an unamused look, she sliced the knife down against the chicken without looking. He sighed, hands on his hips as she grinned at him.

Taking the knife away from her, he hip bumped her out of the way. As he continued to slice up the chicken, she wiped her hands before walking over to the record player. She put on a record and looked through the others he had picked up over the months,

"We should head to the record store on fifth." she glanced over at him, "They have a lot of your...old timey tunes." she teased with a grin. He rolled his eyes at her,

"That should be a jar." he responded, "I thought you were helping me with this." he waved the knife around in the air and she let out a groan.

"But I'm not good at it." she whined, dragging her feet as she went back to the kitchen "And I don't want to ruin your dinner, Cap."

"You won't ruin it." he laughed, shaking his head at how she was acting. She sighed as she stepped up next to him,

"Remember that." she patted his arm before turning back to the counter, "What's next?" He gently handed her a few eggs, indicating she should crack them into the bowl. That was simple enough for her do.

After she finished with that, he handed her a strip of chicken and told her to dredge it in the flour, then in the eggs and then the breadcrumbs he had laid out. She slapped the chicken strip down in the flour, making a cloud of flour puff up in front of them. She let out a laugh and looked over at him, seeing that he was spitting out flecks of flour that had gotten in his mouth. Grinning at him, she placed her fingers in the flour to coat them more before reaching for his face,

"You've got a little flour….right there." she said as she swiped her fingers down his cheek. He shut his eyes and let out a sigh, knowing exactly what she did.

"Oh, do I? Do I really, Q?" he asked, opening his eyes to see her amused smirk. She bit her bottom lip before turning back to her chicken, dredging it through the rest of the steps as he wiped off the flour from his cheek.

Setting the chicken strip on the warmed pan, she reached for another strip and went through the same process again. Getting into the rhythm of it, she put another one through before she got low on flour. He took another cupful out from the container, dumping it onto the counter before smoothing the pile out. Then he took his hand and smirked at her before wiping it off on her shoulder, leaving a giant white mark against the pale blue of her button up.

"Cap!" she gasped out as she dropped another strip into the pan. He laughed at her as she tried to brush off the flour from her shirt. Eyes flicking up to meet his, they narrowed, "Oh, it's on." she threatened before grabbing a handful of flour from the counter and throwing it at him. He flinched back as the flour hit him.

A wide grin spread across her face as he scooped up a small pile of flour before blowing it toward her face. She scrunched up her face as the flour wall hit her directly. He laughed at her as she grabbed more ammo (flour), and reached over his head, dumping it over so the flour rained down over him, coating his blonde locks with white powder.

"Now you finally look your age." she teased with a cocky grin. His white eyebrows raised up and he pushed his cheek out with his tongue.

"How about you try acting your age?" he asked, raising his eyebrows up before grabbing a small handful of flour. She shrugged, screwing her mouth to the side,

"Nah." she responded, still amused by how he looked. He laughed a little as he stepped back,

"Then I guess that means I don't have to either." he said matter of factly before tossing his handful of flour at her, making it explode against her chest. She let out a little yelp before looking back at him. He looked at her challengingly, almost taunting her to do something back. Which she did.

From there, the kitchen was just a white cloud. Both of them tossing handfuls of flour back at each other as his laughs and her yelps became louder than whatever was playing from the record player. They were covered in flour, trying to duck and cover before firing their shots at each other. He advanced closer, dumping a handful over her head, just as she did to him. Then, he picked her up, ignoring her yelps of laughter and spinning her around as she tried to wiggle out. She had a handful of flour in her hand that she threw back in his face, trying to get him to let go. Giggling as he reacted with a gagging sound, his grip on her loosened enough for her to look at him - laughing even harder at the sight of him.

Suddenly, a sharp beeping noise cut through their laughter. The dust settled as he set her down on the ground, looking up at the beeping smoke detector above them. Her eyes moved to the pan where the chicken was currently burning.

"Oh shit!" she cried out, going to turn the stove off as Cap opened up the windows. Using her blazer, she waved it toward the smoke detector to try and stop the beeping.

Once it did, she let her blazer drop and her body slumped down. He moved away from the window and back into the kitchen, stepping over to the stove with her. Having been on the pan for too long, the chicken had turned black and she let out a defeated sigh.

"See? This is why I don't cook." she gestured to the pan before looking at him. He laughed a little, his hands settling on his hips,

"Because you get in flour fights every time?" he asked, eyebrows raising. She nodded, popping her lips and giving him finger guns, "I can fix this. And you're gonna help, Q." he said, adding on that last part. She sighed again,

"Alright, but you know what they say: fool me once, shame on you...fool me twice…" she trailed off and he rolled his eyes.

"You're staying away from the flour and the chicken." he said, reaching for the empty pot that was on the counter, "Fill this a little over halfway with water." he instructed. She nodded, pulling the corners of her mouth down.

"I think I can handle that." she responded. He nodded and handed over the pot, but pulled it back for a second before she took it,

"No splashing, Q." he warned, getting a scoff from her before she saluted him,

"Yessir." she responded, clearly teasing him. He handed her the pot and she went over to the sink to start filling it as he remade the chicken.

There were no more flour fights - or water fights as they finished making dinner. He helped her carry the pot over to the stove and let her dump the noodles into the boiling water. Taking it from there, he cooked everything while she taste tested it from her spot perched on the breakfast bar. He seemed at ease in the kitchen and she remembered how he mentioned he used to cook for his mother after she got sick. Then after his mother died and after everything that had happened to him, it was like the kitchen - cooking, was the one thing he could control. It was another thing that made him seem like a regular guy rather than a superhero.

And it didn't hurt that he was actually a good cook. What he made was simple and really good, both of them eating it in the kitchen so not to track flour all throughout the apartment. She stayed on the breakfast bar, feet kicking while he leaned against the counter across from her. They made casual conversation with each other, both still covered head to toe in flour.

About halfway through dinner, his phone trilled with an incoming text. Since she was already at his apartment, she knew it was SHIELD. And she was right. He had been called in for a op and Natasha was on her way for extraction.

"Go, shower, change." she said, placing her plate down next to her and hopping off the breakfast bar, "I'll clean up the kitchen. I am very good at cleaning." he gave her a grateful smile.

"Thanks, Q." he scarfed down the rest of his dinner before putting his plate in the sink. He stepped out of the kitchen, pulling his shirt over his head as he went. She waited until the shower turned on before starting to clean up the mess they had made.

The kitchen wasn't even close to being totally clean of the aftermath of the flour battle, but at least the dishes were done by the time Natasha showed up. Q answered the door as he finished getting changed. Immediately noticing how she looked, Natasha burst out into laughter,

"What happened, suit?" she asked, grin spread across her face,

"She tried to help me cook dinner." Cap answered as he walked up behind Q, throwing her under the bus.

"Only because you forced me." she defended herself. Natasha twisted her mouth to the side, shaking her head as he stepped around to get out into the hallway. Lifting her hand in a wave goodbye, Natasha turned away to follow him down the stairs, just as Sharon's door open.

A flash of panic struck through her as she realized the predicament they might've just walked into. It felt like a standoff. Covers could be exposed, shit would go down, it was bad news. Sharon tried to backtrack, realizing her mistake, but it was too late - he had seen her. She held her breath as he greeted Sharon with a flash of a smile,

"Hey, Kate." he said easily as he continued for the stairs, clearly shifting into ops' mode. Sharon responded with an easy, cordial smile of her own, not saying anything in return.

Following him, Natasha looked over her shoulder at the other two women, mouthing: Oh yeah. and then nodding with a thumbs up, indicating that she agreed with what Q had said last night. Then she disappeared down the stairs after him and Q already knew that she was going to be bugging him about "Kate" all night.

"Sorry." Sharon winced as she apologized, "I had a load in downstairs…" she trailed off as Q waved her hand at her, stopping her excuse.

"Don't worry about it. I don't think he suspects anything." she assured her. Sharon let out a small sigh of relief before glancing over her body - noticing the flour stains.

"What…?" she asked, an amused grin on her face.

"I'm never going in a kitchen again." Q responded matter of factly, arms crossing over her chest.


	28. the auction

The sleek black car seamlessly wove in and out of the small spaces that the cars ahead of them left. One hand had a loose grip on the steering wheel while the other rested on the gearshift. Her nails tapped against the leather bulb to a random rhythm. He could hear the purr of the engine as it maintained it's steady speed. Glancing over at her, his eyes flicked over her relaxed posture and watched as her head tilted to the side. At the motion, the curtain of red hair blocked his view of her profile, but not enough that he couldn't see her smirk.

"So what's the deal with you and your cute neighbor?" she asked, voice light and easy even though her question was bordering on something he would expect from Q, not her. He laughed, head shaking as he looked back out the front windshield. He didn't need to explain his relationship - or lack thereof, with Kate to her.

"There is no deal." he answered her, "What's the mission?" he asked, changing the subject. She looked over at him, her smirk turning into a grin at his obvious deny and redirect tactic.

"Bringing in a rogue asset." she explained simply, "Shouldn't take long. You'll be back chatting with that cute neighbor of yours in no time." she teased lightly. He let out a deep sigh, wanting to retaliate, but he held his tongue.

"Why does Fury need me?" he asked. She tossed her hair over her shoulder so he could see her profile again, "It's one rogue agent." She pulled the corners of her mouth down, her shoulders raising at the same time,

"I don't know." she answered just as simply as she explained the mission. "Just following orders." He let out a sigh - knowing she was just saying that, before looking out the window and seeing that they were turning into a plane hangar.

Stroding in next to her, he noticed the mixture of SHIELD agents and STRIKE team members walking around the hangar. There weren't a lot, but more than he would've thought to be in the hangar for a simple retrieval mission. His suit was waiting for him and he quickly redressed himself, locking his shield on his back. He followed Natasha onto the quinjet, examining it as he did for anything that should be of concern.

"Okay!" the sound of Dawson's voice booming through the quinjet got his attention. He pulled his attention from his utility belt to see the SHIELD agent stalking aboard the quinjet. "I've got gadgets and gizmos and other things that will help you bring in this asshole." he handed Steve a file folder once he walked up to him, "Information." he stated before handing over a thick metal bracelet, "Refitted your shield with some magnets so that when you throw it, it'll always come back to you." His eyebrows raised up and he was getting ready to think Dawson for the newest improvement, but he had already moved on, "Hey, babe, you should make shield training part of your routine with him. Thing could take out a bunch of bad dudes if thrown at the right angle and then bounced off something…" he trailed off as he walked up to her. There was no file for her; clearly she knew more about the mission than she had let on during the car ride over. Instead, he dumped a handful of the small coins she used to shock their attackers. Spider-bites he called them.

"And they sting." he reminded her. She gave him a slight eye roll, but there was a ghost of an amused smile on her face. His constant reminders of how her coins stung seemed to be an inside joke between the two. "See you on the other side." he bid them goodbye with a bored sigh. He trampled down the ramp of the quinjet, putting all of his weight into his steps so that the sound of his footsteps echoed after he left. His eyes shifted over Natasha, catching the small smile that was on her face right before she tilted her head down to hide her reaction to Dawson.

"What's the deal with you two?" he asked, using the same tone she had used when she asked him about Kate. His eyebrows rose up and a grin appeared on his face as she gave him a confused look.

"I don't know what you're talking about." she answered him. She locked eyes with him, almost daring him to continue with a follow-up question. He gave a huff of a laugh, shaking his head and turning back to pull on the bracelet around his wrist.

"Don't worry," he started, "should be a short trip, right? You'll be back to him soon enough." he finished with a teasing smile. She took in a breath, shifting into ops mode and placing her hands on her hips.

"We're wheels up in ten." she said matter-of-factly before walking past him. He nodded, watching as she walked off the quinjet then moving over to one of the seats so he could look through the file folder.

Flipping through the folder, he got a general idea of what they were trying to do. The rogue asset had stolen one of the encrypted SHIELD external hard drives and was now offering it to the highest bidder at a leadership conference. If it got into the wrong hands, it could cause some serious issues for the government agency. He, Natasha and the rest of the STRIKE team had to retrieve both the asset and the hard drive without causing a scene. Another Fury clean-up job.

"Hey, Rogers." Rumlow greeted him as he stomped onboard. He looked up from the folder and gave him a tight smile and nod.

"Rumlow." he responded, sighing a bit. He watched as Rumlow stepped across to the opposite side of the quinjet to make sure all the gear was fastened securely.

Since being cleared for missions, Steve always worked with Rumlow and his STRIKE team. And as much as he disliked the man, he had to admit that he was a good soldier. He followed orders, did what was expected and was always well informed on each mission - not leaving out any details in the briefings. He tolerated him, trusted him to have his back on the field and listen to his orders, but that was it. Other than that, he was personable, but he certainly wouldn't ask him to go get a beer after the mission was over.

"Still stuck talking with Agent Proctor every day?" Rumlow asked casually, pulling him from his thoughts. He made eye contact with him, shifting in his seat. The question was loaded - that much he could tell from just the tone. But his eyes shifted ever so slightly to the left, meaning there was something else to the question. He was silently wondering if she had told him about their...sexationship as she called it.

His answer could be one of two. First, he could tell Rumlow what he knew, followed by a thinly veiled threat so that he understood not say anything about it. Or he could play dumb, pretend he didn't know anything and still keep both of their secrets. From his observations, Rumlow had kept his mouth shut about his past relationship - sexationship with Q. There had been no mention of it or even hints that it had happened. Obviously, he realized that it would screw up his rank and maybe even his credibility within SHIELD; Rumlow was a high-ranking leader of the STRIKE team while she was just an analyst. Not that Steve thought she was just anything. But, he wasn't sure if Rumlow gave a damn about what would happen to Q if he told people what happened. Still, his concern for his own self-preservation was better for both of them.

"I wouldn't quite say I was stuck with her." Steve finally answered, choosing the second option of playing dumb and just answering his surface question without giving in that he knew there was an unspoken question underneath.

"How long's it been now?" he asked his follow-up question, still trying to cleverly figure out if Steve knew anything.

"About five months." At his answer, Rumlow gave a slight laugh, shaking his head a bit.

"That poor girl." he commented. Steve took in a breath, resting a hand on his knee as he leaned forward. He knew Rumlow was making a joke, a light jab at both his and her expense. And at the beginning, when he first met her, he would agree with Rumlow's comment; he felt bad that she was stuck with him every day and every night. But over the course of the past five months, the two of them had become closer than he ever thought they would. He might even consider her one of his best friends - or rather his only best friend at that point. He looked to the side, away from Rumlow for a moment before looking back and going along with the joke,

"Yeah, I guess so." he laughed a little, "She's the one who has to listen to me talk all day and teach me about the modern world." Rumlow made a noise that sounded like a laugh, but also sounded like a huff. His eyes shifted away from him, looking back down to adjusting his fingerless gloves.

"I'm sure that's really tough for her." he grunted out, "Don't bore her too much." he smirked at him, almost like they had an inside joke together. He didn't know how to respond and luckily, he didn't have to; the rest of the STRIKE team started boarding, followed by Natasha. Her skin tight black suit had been traded in for an equally skin tight black dress. Her hair was still pin straight, but instead of her combat boots, she had on a pair of heels. She gave him a mock salute before taking her seat next to him.

The sound of the engines starting up silenced all of them. Steve fastened himself in as the quinjet door closed up. It started to move forward slowly, rolling out of the hangar as their pilot headed for the runway. Rumlow sat across from him, his attention focused on the tablet in his hands.

As he kept his eyes on him, he tried to see what Q saw in him. She had made it clear over and over that there was no relationship aspect to whatever they did together, but they were still together. He was a good-looking man - on the short side, which he made up for in muscle mass and confidence; if you're the most confident in the room, no one cares how tall you are. She said they didn't really talk so it wasn't his personality or their shared interests. Maybe it was solely based on pure, physical attraction. Nothing more, nothing less. Briefly, he wondered if Rumlow had thought it was different - if it was an actual relationship. Obviously, he couldn't ask him about it, but the thought crossed his mind.

When the quinjet reached a certain cruising altitude, everyone unbuckled and then crowded around the front screens where the information from his folder was being shown. They quickly went through the details of the op - what needed to be done and how it needed to be done.

"Rumlow, I want a STRIKE perimeter set up around the building and garage. Cover every exit." Steve started to lay out his plan, getting a nod from him. He kept his hands holding the center of his utility belt as he continued, "He can't leave and neither can that drive. Natasha will be on the inside. Rumlow and I will be waiting for him in the service corridor. Natasha, make sure he sees you so you can flush him out to us."

"What if he has guys?" Natasha asked, hand under her chin thoughtfully.

"I'm sure we can handle them." he confidently answered. She raised her eyebrows at him, not questioning his statement, but looking almost impressed. He knew his demeanor was different during SHIELD missions. It had to be. He had to command respect and make sure his men did their jobs or there would be consequences. He was stiff, more traditional - falling back into the soldier mode he had been so accustomed to being in for the past...well ever since he rescued the 107th in Italy. He was used to it, resigned himself to always being that part of him. But after spending so much time around others that weren't soldiers - or those that didn't treat him like a soldier, but as simply a man, he found himself beginning to feel a tightness in his gut every time he was called on an op. He didn't know what it meant, he certainly didn't like it, but he ignored it.

Once they reached their destination, Rumlow directed the STRIKE team to their positions while Natasha and he linked up their comms. He made sure he had everything he needed - gun holstered in his thigh, utility belt filled with Dawson's tech and some other things, and his shield was safely on his back - already cloaked in the stealth mask.

Natasha walked next to him, her stride long and easy as she kept pace with him, even in her heels. He surveyed where they landed, ticking off the entrances and exits while noticing the amount of windows the building had. There were people going into the building dressed in tuxedos and nice gowns, security was glancing over each couple and group as they entered.

"I'm feeling a little underdressed." Natasha sighed out, noticing the guests of the conference.

"You look fine." he responded, eyes flicking around, "Just remember we're here to get the drive and the asset. Preferably alive." she scoffed at him as if his request was ridiculous. Still, he knew she was going to listen to him. She went off one way while he made his way around the back to the point where he was supposed to meet up with Rumlow. Once there, Rumlow got the door open for them, both stepping in and making their way to the service corridor.

"No sign of him yet," Natasha's voice came over their comms, "But I've got sight of potential buyers."

"Remember to keep an eye out in case he has guys. You know they'll have weapons." he advised as he walked next to Rumlow.

"I'm going to make myself visible, see if I can draw him out." Natasha responded.

"You sure this is where he's gonna go?" Rumlow asked as they got to their positions. He nodded, pulling his shield off of his back to click it into place against the magnet bracelet on his wrist.

"The best exfil point is through the service corridor." he explained shortly.

"How can you be sure he'll exfil?" he asked a follow-up question. Something that should've been asked before the plan was laid out and agreed to. Taking in a breath, Steve kept his cool - focusing on the mission and not his personal feelings toward Rumlow.

"Because when he spots Natasha, he'll know we're onto him." As if on cue, Natasha's voice came over their comms,

"He saw me." Natasha's voice came over the comm smoothly, "He's on his way to you."

Straightening, he peered around the corner and kept his eyes locked on the doors. They were standard swinging doors and lead straight down the hall. Once he saw the rogue asset stomp through, he moved away from the wall they had been pressed up against - giving away his position. Rumlow stepped up behind, aiming his gun over Steve's shoulder and at the asset.

"Auction's over." he said as the asset tried to back step away from them. Only Natasha was behind him and pushed him away from her. He spun around to see her before looking in between the three of them.

"Where's the hard drive?" he asked, the tone of his voice making it clear that it was in the asset's best interest to answer. The asset gave a little laugh, shaking his head,

"What? You think I have it on me?" he asked before lunging for Natasha. Steve quickly grabbed his arm with his free hand, locking it behind his head. Natasha moved forward, hands skating around his chest and into his pockets for the hard drive. She batted away the other hand that was trying to grab her hair or arm or anything to give him leverage.

Only before they get any further, they were interrupted by the doors slamming open again. Looking over, all three of them saw a group of large men charging for them - or rather Natasha. The leader was shouting about how Natasha was the spy that killed his friend. It quickly turned into a fight: Steve pushed the asset into Rumlow's arms, ordering him to hold him. Unclicking his shield, he used it to block one of the attackers' punches before hitting him with it. He quickly placed it on his back, deciding to use his fists as he fended off the men. Natasha was easily holding her own, disarming the men and tossing their guns out of reach before knocking them unconscious.

And as quickly as it started, it was over. Unconscious bodies littered the floor around them and it was only a matter of time before someone came to investigate. Steve surveyed the damage and then looked back to where Rumlow was holding down the struggling rouge asset. He stalked over to him, ignoring how the man looked more angry than unafraid.

"Where's the drive?" he asked, voice low and serious.

"Buy-in's two million. But you better hurry, it'll be over soon." the asset responded cheekily. Steve sighed and looked to Rumlow.

"Take him to the quinjet." he ordered, "We'll get the drive." Rumlow nodded and yanked the asset away from them. Natasha checked her watch before looking to him,

"He's right. The auction's almost over. We gotta get out of here before a waiter comes around and finds this." she glanced around at the unconscious men.

"Go back in there, see who wins the auction, then tail em. I'll meet up with you." he instructed. She nodded and turned to go out the way she came. Glancing around himself, Steve figured he'd wait for Natasha by the garage, figuring that whoever won the auction would have to leave at some point.

As he made his way there, Rumlow's voice came over the comm telling him that the asset was secure in the quinjet. Steve couldn't help but compare and contrast his missions with SHIELD to past missions with the Howling Commandos. While the basics of their missions were similar, it still felt a bit off. With the Howling Commandos it was more raid-based. They would infiltrate a Hydra base or camp, blow some stuff up and get out of there - trying to eliminate as many possible threats in a short amount of time. But his SHIELD missions were more covert, not wanting to draw attention to what they were doing and to get in and get out as fast as possible. Just as before, he was still leading, which was nice and familiar, but it wasn't the same as leading the Commandos. Those men were like brothers to him and he couldn't ever see Rumlow and the STRIKE team filling in that hole.

During the raids with the Howling Commandos, there was an overarching goal: take down Hydra. He hadn't been able to figure out the goal of his SHIELD missions - or even if there was one. Q's voice echoed in the back of his head from when they had visited the museum. She had said that there was probably a purpose, that Fury wouldn't just send him on missions just because. At the time, he thought that she was just trying to placate him and stop him from asking any more questions - ignoring his personal feelings. But time went on and he had a feeling that she didn't really know anything regarding the ops except the bare bones and whatever he shared with her after the fact. She hadn't been defending SHIELD, she had been trying to tell him what he wanted to hear to make him feel better about the missions he was being sent on.

His instinct was right - the buyer was headed for the garage, flanked by what had to be the asset's men. He waited behind one of the columns, peering around to see that Natasha was a few feet away by the door. Her gaze met his and she nodded once, indicating that she was aware of him. He glanced back to where the buyer was going to a random SUV and popping open the trunk. There were three more men surrounding the car as he reached for the briefcase waiting inside.

At the sight of the hard drive, Steve and Natasha both sprung into action. They worked seamlessly together. Natasha disarmed the guards while he helped take them down. Since it was a close combat fight, he didn't feel the need to use his shield. Instead, he relied on both Natasha's training and his own to help take down the guards before stepping up to the buyer. The buyer pulled out his gun, while holding the briefcase behind his back.

"Hand over the drive, son." Steve ordered seriously. The buyer at least had the audacity to realize that he was outnumbered, but still held his ground. He sighed and tilted his head to the side, indicating to Natasha that she could do what she did best.

Springing into action, she kicked the gun out of his hand and then wrapped her arm around his neck, other hand on the briefcase that she forced out of his grasp. She handed it over to Steve as she kept the buyer in her grasp. Using one hand, he balanced the case while opening it with his other. Inside he found a flash drive nestled in the middle. It was marked with the SHIELD logo and detailed with blue and silver lines. Even after spending almost two and a half years in the new world, it still amazed him to see that such a small thing could hold so much information.

"The package is secure. Prepare to exfil." he instructed over his comm, eyeing the flash drive.

Back on the quinjet, he passed the drive off the Rumlow. He glanced over at the rogue asset who looked pissed off that he had been caught. Natasha brought the buyer in behind him, cuffing him and strapping him in next to the asset.

"We'll have them interrogated once we're back at the Triskelion." she told him as the quinjet started up, "Told you it would be a quick one." she winked at him before going to take her seat. He settled down next to her with a sigh,

"Who was that guy we had to take down?" he asked, referring back their surprise visitors in the service corridor. Natasha made a face and shrugged,

"No idea."

"And his friend?"

"Don't remember." she responded with another shrug. "Don't usually keep track of people like that." she admitted with a timid smile. He nodded, knowing what she meant. They didn't need to bring up her past - all that mattered was that she had his back now. Which she did.

For the past few months, after every mission, every time he returned back to the Triskelion, Q would be waiting for him on the walkway. She was a welcome sight for sore eyes after he had done whatever needed to be done during the missions. She listened to him talk - or rant if he needed to. Oddly enough, he found himself looking forward to getting back to the Triskelion; she would be there.

But this time, she wasn't. When he stepped onto the walkway, there was no sign of her or her pantsuit or notepad. Brows furrowing, he moved to the elevator to go down to her office. Maybe she hadn't gotten notice that they were on their way back. No one paid attention to him, knowing that she was the one who always handled his debrief.

Her office door was shut and locked, which was usual. Yet when he knocked, there was no answer. He knew he could break down the door, but that just felt unnecessary. There were plenty of other places she could be in the Triskelion. So he went on a small adventure throughout the building to try to find her. Which sucked. He didn't like to be in the Triskelion without her. He could deal with being in the building with Dawson, but he always liked it better when Q was by his side.

Worry began to grow when he realized that she wasn't in the building at all. He confirmed this with a very busy, very annoyed Dawson, who quickly told him that she hadn't swiped in all night. Then he added a side snarky comment about trying to call her with his fancy cell phone. A dig at his lack of technological abilities, but also an idea he hadn't thought of until it was mentioned.

Changing out of his uniform, he dressed himself in the clothes he was wearing when he walked onto the hangar hours earlier. His phone was in his jacket pocket where he left it before. He only had three contacts in his phone: Q, Natasha and Dawson. Tapping her contact name, he let the call connect before placing the phone to his ear. It rang once, twice, three times. Then four. He started to pace around in a circle as it continued to ring. She always answered on the third ring. But instead the call went to voicemail. He had never heard her voicemail before. It didn't sound like her voice. It was robotic and told him to leave a message after the tone. He didn't.

Ending the call, he noticed the time and date that was displayed on the screen. It was a full day later - or rather night. Time differences, plus travel time made it the mission took a lot longer than it actually did. He had missed an entire day with Q and it worried him that she wasn't in her office, or anywhere in the Triskelion, or even picking up her phone. If something bad had happened to her while he was away on one of Fury's clean up missions…. He didn't finish that thought, instead focusing on finding her.

As a last resort, he went to her apartment building. There was someone coming out as he went in so he didn't have to worry about buzzing in. He made his way up to the second floor, remembering which apartment number she was in. The last time he had been in her apartment, she was piss drunk and the time before that she had a sprained ankle. He didn't know what he would find this time. He took in a deep breath and then knocked twice.

"It's unlocked!" a male voice called out from the other side. He paused for a moment. The voice didn't belong to Dawson - or Rumlow for that matter. He sounded casual and since he didn't bother getting up to let Steve in, was obviously comfortable in the apartment .

Carefully, he turned the knob and slowly pushed the door open. He wasn't sure if the man on the other side was a friend or a foe. It could be a trap. Oh, how he wished he had brought his shield.

The door opened, revealing her apartment and the source of the voice. As soon as his eyes landed on the shirtless man sitting on the couch, Steve's heart jumped to his throat. For a split second, he thought it was Bucky sitting on the couch in her apartment with a guitar resting on his lap. The man's profile was similar, as was the swoop of dark hair. But when the man turned to look at him, it was clear that it wasn't his old best friend. Of course not. That would be ridiculous.

"Hey - oh my god!" the man greeted him, cutting himself off as he realized who was standing in the hallway of the apartment. He immediately got up from his spot on the couch, placing the guitar to the side. He looked around Q's age and while he may have been shirtless, his skin was covered in tattoos. There didn't seem to be a pattern to the placement or a theme, but he was decorated in them from his chest to his shoulders. Steve caught sight of a few bigger ones: a star in a circle on each side of his chest, something written out in scripted handwriting under his collarbone, and something on his ribcage that looked like a box with a bunch of long rectangles falling out of it. His grin was wide, reaching all the way up to his equally wide eyes. His hands came up to cover his mouth, but there was a twinkle in his eye that suggested what Steve already knew - that he recognized him.

"Oh! My God!" the man bounced on his toes as he reacted to seeing Steve. He wasn't sure what to do or how to react. His fists clenched, stance shifting just in case he needed to attack. The man seemed muscular, but his excitement was a good distraction.

"What are you freaking out about?" Q's voice came from the bedroom, sounding annoyed. A moment later she appeared in the living room. Steve let out a small breath of relief; she was unharmed and looked like she was dressed for the Triskelion. Her eyes shifted from the stranger to where Steve was standing. Her mouth went slack at the sight of him, blinking rapidly as she tried to put two and two together.

"That's Captain fucking America!" the man practically squealed out, still bouncing on his toes. She shushed him sharply, her eyes wide in silent warning. He shut his mouth and shifted his stance, straightening a bit.

Watching the interaction, he tried to figure out who the man in her apartment was. Just by context clues alone: the time of night it was, the shirtless-ness...he might be her new boyfriend or her new Rumlow. A sour tasted formed in his mouth that he quickly swallowed back, turning his attention to Q to let her explain.

"Cap, hey." she greeted him, plastering that warm, professional smile on her face, "I was just coming to meet you. Sorry, I was running late." His eyes flicked over, silently wondering if the shirtless man was the reason she was late. He had made a joke before that alluded to her sexationship with Rumlow being the reason why she was late. It echoed in the back of his head and suddenly, he regretted ever making it. She noticed his look, following his gaze to where the other man was. Taking in a breath, she tucked her hair behind her ears before crossing her arms over her chest.

"Cap, this is my younger brother." she explained, gesturing to the man standing a few feet away from her and then letting out a deep sigh, "Frankie."


	29. sibling interaction

After he left, she went back to cleaning up the mess they had made in his kitchen. Luckily, dry flour was relatively easy to sweep up. But once she finished cleaning the kitchen, she figured she might as well just clean the entire apartment. The kitchen looked a little too clean compared to the rest of his apartment - not that his apartment was necessarily dirty to begin with. It would just calm her soul a little more if the whole apartment was on the same level of cleanliness. Plus, it would be nice for him to come back from his op to a clean apartment. She was just being nice, doing her job, making things easier on him.

Cleaning also took her mind off of whatever op he had been sent on. She never really knew where he went or what he did. In the beginning, she did, but once he started to lead the ops himself, she was only told what he told her. Sometimes she could pull some information from the other post-ops of the STRIKE team and Natasha, but really she relied on Cap to tell her everything. Unfortunately, that meant she had to wait until he came back to learn about his op.

So as to not spiral down into a hole of anxiety and worry, she cleaned. She moved from the kitchen to the dining area - fixing up his table and sweeping up whatever crumbs were left. Then onto the living room, where she organized his records in alphabetical order and then by the year they were released. She fluffed up the pillows, refolded the blanket on the back of the couch and made sure the coffee table and all the other shelves were dusted.

She pushed the last remaining boxes that he had left to unpack - at this point she figured they were just decoration, against the wall before beginning to vacuum the carpet. She pushed it into his bedroom where she did a quick vacuum before making sure his bed was made and his bathroom was wiped down.

It didn't feel like she was being intrusive or invading his privacy; she decorated most of his apartment anyhow. And she wasn't looking through his drawers or cabinets, just straightening the things that were on public display. If he had a problem with it, he would tell her when he returned from his op.

Once his apartment was all at the same level of cleanliness, she figured she should get home. It was later than she realized and she still needed to clean herself. There was flour all over her outfit, in her hair, and on her face. And she smelled like cleaning products which only was a good smell in theory. In reality, it gave her a headache.

Keeping on trend with having everything at the same level of cleanliness, she decided to try and clean up her apartment a little before washing herself off. After her shower, she ended up passing out and sleeping until mid-morning the next day - which was a treat for her. Even on days where she didn't go with him on his runs, she very rarely slept in past six in the morning. But since he was on an overnight op, she was able to sleep in a little longer - at least until she was woken up by a call from SHIELD telling her that they were returning.

Most times, she wasn't sure how long his op would take. Depending on where they went and for how long, some of his ops lasted days, others lasted hours. In the beginning, she would just be waiting for him at the Triskelion, which sometimes meant spending days there. She would enlist Dawson to get her fresh clothes or food and would resort to sleeping back in her office like she had done countless times before Cap even came into her life.

While he didn't seem to notice that she had been spending nights and days in the Triskelion waiting for him to return, Natasha did. Together, the two of them came up with a plan, a simple plan really and Q was disappointed in herself that she hadn't thought of it before. Maybe it was because of her fear of Natasha and her sexationship with Rumlow prevented any communication with the other two agents, but either way, Natasha would get in contact with Q once the op was finished and they were enroute back to the Triskelion. It gave her time she could use to do other things and enough time to get back to the Triskelion without him having to be there without her - since she knew how much he hated it.

Since she didn't wake up to any calls about them returning from the op, she had the whole day to herself. And, honestly? She didn't know what to do with herself. If it were any other time, or with any other person, she would be longing for a day off. A day to decompress and not have to worry about someone else for once. But he wasn't just her assignment anymore, he was her friend. And she didn't really have many of those (three, barely). She liked hanging out with him - hell, she had spent pretty much every day for the past five months with him. She didn't really know what to do with herself.

Other times he was away on ops, she would prep for their Friday Fury meetings. But it was a Friday, which meant she had already prepped. Her packets were already written up and bound together - the important tabs marked up. In the past almost five months, the thickness of her packets had decreased dramatically. Her reports weren't as detailed as they were; she didn't feel the need to disclose every little thing. She didn't check the graphs from his FitBit as often as she used to. She rarely used her notepad or recorder during their talks. Not to mention, their talks weren't even as formal as they once were - some of them happening at his dining room table or during their walks. And the talks weren't as serious either. Sure, they talked about his time in the SSR and certain things like that, but they had moved past the Captain America stuff and into talking more about him as Steve Rogers. His likes and dislikes, what he found interesting or not, etc. etc. She was learning more about him as a person, rather than as an idol or a superhero and found that she liked that person.

So with all of her work done and her Friday Fury meeting cancelled on account of the op Cap was on, she really had no other option other than to just be with herself. She didn't really have anything that needed to be done. Her day was free for her to do with what she pleased.

This meant starting with a breakfast sandwich. Only when she got to the deli, she found that it was closed. Odd. In the past seven years she had lived on the block, she had never seen the deli closed. The deli was usually open twenty-four hours, seven days a week and even on holidays, it was open. Her breakfast sandwich would have to be from somewhere else.

Once she had acquired her breakfast sandwich - or rather, brunch sandwich considering it was close to lunch by the time she got back to her apartment, she fell onto the couch with a grunt. She clicked on the television, flipping through the channels until she got to HGTV. While she watched Property Brothers, she ate her sandwich with one hand, using her other hand to unhook her bra.

It was almost mid-afternoon by the time Q did move from her position on the couch. Her breakfast sandwich had been long since finished and Property Brothers changed into House Hunters which was her only indication of how long she had been laying there. That and her stomach growling softly for more food.

With the deli out of commission, there was no real reason to get up and go anywhere. Food could be delivered to her. All she needed to do was answer the door and tip the guy enough. Which is exactly what she did. She re-situated herself on the couch, making it so her food and soda were easily within reach. Her yoga pants joined her bra on the floor next to the couch and she had never felt more relaxed.

Q knew she was being lazy. But over the past few months with Cap, she had done more physical work than she had ever done in all of her time at SHIELD. She went on walks now. The most she had ever gone outside during her work hours was with Dawson during their lunch hour. And even then they just sat on a bench. She had run, multiple times, after her assignment, which she never had to do before when she was in her BatCave. And, and she was up early every day, and didn't get to bed until very late at night. Well, that wasn't that different from before; she did stay up super late when she was just an analyst, but still. This was her first real "day off" she had in almost five months. She was allowing herself to be a lot lazy. She had worked hard enough.

But that didn't mean she wasn't paying attention. She had her phone on her chest while she watched HGTV and ate her food. It was on vibrate so she would not only know, but feel when Natasha was calling in. She had all her bases covered.

Except for an unexpected visitor.

A knock on her door pulled her attention from the television screen. Figuring it was the dinner she ordered, she pushed to her feet - letting her phone fall against the couch and forgetting that she wasn't wearing pants. She shuffled over to the door, opening it, only to have whoever on the other side push past her and into her apartment. He surprised her and threw her off, both balance-wise and reaction-wise. It took her a second to realize that it wasn't an intruder or a rude delivery guy, but her brother.

"Frankie, what the fuck!?" she cried out, throwing her hand toward him. He let his duffel bag fall off of his shoulder and hit the ground with a thump. Ignoring her, he looked around her apartment, letting out a slow whistle. His hands rested on his hips as he turned around to look at her with a grin,

"This is a nice place, Q-J." he complimented her and greeted her at the same time

"Don't call me that." she immediately responded. Shutting the door behind her, she stepped over to him. Her arms crossed over her chest and she raised her eyebrows at him, "What are you doing here? How do you know where I live?" she asked. No one in her family knew about where she lived or what she did for a living. When she was tossed into prison, they had cut all ties with her. It was like she died. And SHIELD was fine with that; it meant no one would come looking for her. They didn't have to worry about coming up with a cover for her or why they had pulled her out of jail. That was until her Nana had died and she needed to go back, to say goodbye.

"Uh, I'm kinda in the middle of an emotional crisis." Frankie scratched the back of his head, making a face as he did, "And ya shared your location with me when we went out after Nana's wake." he grinned at her victoriously, pulling out his phone to show her, "You've been here a few times for long periods of time and have been here all day so I figured you probably lived here and then when I got to the building, I saw your name in the lobby so." his grin got wider, "Bingo." She rolled her eyes at him, not even looking at his phone. Letting out a huff, she moved past him to get her pants and pull them on as she talked,

"Well, it's great to see you, Frankie, but you've gotta go." she said pointedly. He let out a whine, dropping his shoulders down and stomping his foot a little,

"No, Q-J, you gotta let me stay. At least for the night. I'm in the middle of an emotional crisis." he complained. She rolled her eyes again, but paused, gesturing for him to continue. At least she would hear a good story before kicking her brother out. He straightened up and his features became serious as he started to tell her his story, "Okay, so you know how I was with Zach?" he asked.

"No." she said plainly. She never kept track of his past partners - there were too many.

"Well, I found out that he was cheating on me with Colin," he ignored her answer to his rhetorical question, "Like walked in the apartment and there he was! With him! So I had to leave." he finished with a sigh.

"But it's your apartment…" she trailed off, trying to figure out the reasoning behind why he had to leave.

"I felt rude kicking them out." he sighed dejectedly, making her laugh, "I just need a place to crash for the weekend until the landlord changes the locks and he doesn't like working on the weekends." he explained.

"Why not go to Mom and Dad's?" she asked, gesturing to him, "A much shorter train ride than to here." he made a disgusted face,

"Ew, the suburbs? No thanks." he made his eyes wider and shook his head, "C'mon, please?" he asked, pushing out his lower lip and clasping his hands together in front of him. She took in a deep breath, avoiding his puppy dog eyes for a moment before letting the breath out and making eye contact.

"Fine." she said, "But first thing Sunday morning, you're out." she said seriously. He nodded, hands up before moving forward,

"Thank you, thank you, thank you." he grabbed her cheeks with his hands and she quickly shook out of his grasp. She gave him a disgusted look before turning to answer the knocking at the door.

Paying the pizza man, she turned back to see her brother walking around her apartment. He inspected her shelves, looking at her books and other trinkets. The last time she had seen her brother was at their Nana's funeral. The time before that was a few days before she had been arrested. She was eighteen, he was sixteen. They were close in age, only two years in between them. Sometimes people thought they were twins, others thought they were dating. He looked up to her, figuratively, but thankfully, he didn't follow in her footsteps.

As most siblings did, they had their differences and their similarities. She worked with numbers and data, graphs and charts - an analytical thinker. He worked with colors and paints, art and music - a creative thinker. With his dark hair, bright blue eyes, charming smile and excitable personality, he could get away with anything and people immediately trusted him. After graduating school, he opened up his own tattoo shop and made a name for himself as a small business owner. And it worked. Especially in a place like Brooklyn where it was becoming heavily populated with hipsters who wanted infinity tattoos on their wrists.

"Who!" his voice got her attention from where she was cleaning up her trash from her previous meals to make room for the pizza, "Is this!?" he sounded delighted by whatever he found. She went over to the kitchen with her trash, seeing that he plucked the photostrip from the Coney Island photobooth from where she had stuck it on her fridge. Frankie turned to look at her with a wide smile that reached his eyes, holding the photostrip in his fingers. When she didn't answer immediately, he looked back at it, studying the individual photos.

"Is this your new boyfriend?" he asked, brow furrowing a bit, "He looks like Captain America." he looked up from the photostrip to her. Q opened and closed her mouth, trying to come up with a lie that would keep him from asking any more questions. He had no idea what she really did and she wasn't about to tell him so soon. Stepping over to him, she took the photostrip out of his hand.

"He's just a friend. And he gets that a lot." she gave him a tight smile, but the grin stayed on his face.

"Uh-huh, sure." he nodded as she stuck the photostrip back on her fridge, "Just a friend." he teased. Well at least that was what he decided to harp on, not the other thing. Though she had her doubts that he had moved past how eerily similar the person in the photo looked like Cap; he had always been a big Captain America fan, even when they were kids.

"Just a friend." she stressed the same word he had, but her tone implied a different meaning. She made it serious, holding eye contact with him until he looked away first. He held his hands up before pushing her out of the way to get into the fridge and get a soda.

"Whatever you say." he sang out, still not believing her. She sighed before grabbing a soda for herself and following him over to the couch. He grabbed a slice of pizza before flopping down on the couch, only bringing his legs up so she had room to sit next to him.

"HGTV? Really?" he asked, sounding annoyed. He reached for the remote, changing the channel, "If I wanted to hear about bathroom remodels, I would've gone to Mom and Dad's." he sighed before settling on a channel that was playing on of the Mission Impossibles. She didn't bother to fight him on it - a little happy for the change in genre. There was only so much HGTV a person could take in a day.

The two of them finished off the pizza while watching the movie. Even though he showed up unannounced, it was nice to see her brother. The last time had been under unfortunate circumstances that led them to drinking together, which just ended badly for both of them. It was a nice moment of normality - she had almost forgotten that she was a SHIELD analyst assigned to Captain America. To her brother, she was just an insurance agent with a boring life.

There seemed to be a Mission Impossible marathon going on so one movie went right into the next. Frankie shifted in his seat as the next movie started, making a face as he reached under himself to pull something out. She glanced over to see that he was holding her phone. It lit up for a moment before going dark.

"I think you got a text." he said, handing her phone over to her. She took it to see she had a missed call from Cap along with a message from Natasha with the timestamp telling her that the message had come in around the same time Frankie had showed up. Shit.

"I, uh, gotta go." she said quickly, turning off the television. She pushed the pillow off her lap and into Frankie, which made him spill the rest of his soda over himself. He let out a noise of surprise and annoyance which she ignored as she got to her feet. She quickly closed the empty pizza box and grabbed the empty soda cans, including his as he pulled off his shirt.

"What? Where?" Frankie asked, sitting up a bit more than he had when the liquid spilled on him, "It's like nine."

"There was an accident I have to go assess." she lied, moving for her bedroom. Obviously, they were back from the mission. Who knew how long they had been back. A missed call from Cap was enough to make her worry. "I shouldn't be gone long." she added, not wanting him to ask any more questions.

In her bedroom, she went for the bathroom first. She washed her face and put on a minimal amount of makeup. Pressing her hands down on top of her hand, she dragged them down, trying to maintain her wild waves, but they always had a mind of their own. Her stomach was flopping all over the place as she got ready. She tried to convince herself it was because she ate too much and too fast, but really it was because she was nervous and anxious about being late/seeing Cap. She was finishing up dressing herself in a blouse and blazer-skirt combo when she heard Frankie's yell of excitement.

"What are you freaking out about?" she asked as she walked out of her bedroom. She was annoyed at whatever was causing his reaction; she didn't have time to deal with it. He was standing across from her bedroom door, looking dead ahead and there was a wide smile on his face that was almost as wide as his eyes.

Her eyes shifted to where he was looking, only to feel her heart jump to her throat. There, standing in her apartment, was Cap. Moment of panic aside, he looked uninjured from his op and was dressed in his civilian clothes. She blinked rapidly, jaw going slack as she tried to put two and two together. Why was he here? In her apartment? Why didn't he wait for her at the Triskelion like usual?

Her internal line of questioning was cut off by Frankie, practically squealing out "That's Captain fucking America!" his hand gesturing wildly with his hand and bouncing a bit on his toes. She shushed him sharply, her eyes wide in silent warning. He shut his mouth and shifted his stance, straightening a bit.

Turning her attention back to Cap, she saw his eyes flicking from her to Frankie. She could imagine the gears turning in his head as he tried to figure out who Frankie was - if he was a threat or not or something else all together. Then his gaze settled on her, waiting for her to explain,

"Cap, hey." she greeted him, plastering that warm, professional smile that she hated so much on her face, "I was just coming to meet you. Sorry, I was running late." His eyes flicked over, silently wondering if the shirtless man was the reason she was late. She remember the joke he had made before about Rumlow being the reason behind her lateness and she felt her face heat up a little; he probably thought the same thing at that moment too. Taking in a breath, she tucked her hair behind her ears before crossing her arms over her chest.

"Cap, this is my younger brother." she explained, gesturing to the man standing a few feet away from her and then letting out a deep sigh, "Frankie." He lifted his hand up in a little wave and she watched Cap instantly relax. His fists unclenched and his jaw loosened up a bit - clearly he was ready for a fight.

"I didn't know he was in town." he responded. His voice was tight, but he swallowed and cleared his throat.

"Neither did I." she agreed, glancing over to her brother pointedly, "He just dropped in." Frankie grinned at her, not ashamed before looking back over to him with wonder in his eyes.

"Well, I didn't mean to intrude." he nodded, "Have a good night, Q." he nodded at her again. He was trying to get out of the situation he had walked into. Q didn't know what to do; she needed to do her job - debrief him, but she couldn't very well do that with Frankie staring at him like he hung the moon. But before she could decide what to do, Frankie's mouth decided to catch up with his brain.

"You two know each other!?" he cried out excitedly, stopping Cap from leaving. His mouth was open and he looked between the two of them before letting out a disbelieving laugh, "What the fuck!?" he waited for answer, eyebrows raised, mouth open in a wide smile.

"We know each other." she sighed out, "We're co-workers." Again, he let out the same disbelieving laugh and there was a little bit of panic behind his wide eyes; clearly he didn't know how he should react.

"You work with Captain America." he stated, trying to put it all together, "I thought you were an insurance agent - wait, what do you do?" his voice dropped into a whisper. He kept his eyes trained on Cap, almost like he was afraid if he looked away - he would disappear.

"She's been helping me adjust to the twenty-first century." Cap answered for her. Her eyes darted over to him and she gave him a quick, tight, grateful smile.

"Right, yeah, cause you were frozen for seventy years." he filled in the blanks, pulling the corners of his mouth down and tilting his head to the side, "Makes sense. Oh my God! I have so many questions." he said in the same breath. Then he clapped his hands over his mouth, the bouncing on his toes resuming.

"And I'll answer all of them, I swear." she promised, stepping over to him as he dropped his hands from his mouth, "But right now I need you to do two things."

"Yes, what? Anything." he quickly agreed without even hearing the things she needed from him. She stifled an eye roll and took in a breath,

"One, you to promise you'll never tell anyone about this." she said seriously, getting a nod from him, "And two: go on the fire escape for a minute so I can talk to Captain Rogers." he made a face and shimmied his shoulders before glancing over at Cap,

"So professional sounding." he teased. She gave him a serious look and he straightened up, nodding quickly, "Yep, yeah, I'll be out on the fire escape." he stepped to the side, heading for the window.

Taking in deep breath and slowly releasing it, she turned her attention back to Cap. She put her hands up in front of her as he slipped his hands into his jeans' pockets. With two quick steps she was right in front of him, regret written all over her face. This was not a good surprise for him - especially after a mission.

"I am so sorry about him." she apologized, "I didn't know he was coming and I certainly didn't expect you to show up here either…" she trailed off. He sighed, head dropping down for a moment before he looked back at her,

"Yeah, I'm sorry about just showing up like this. I got back from the op and you weren't at the Triskelion and I looked all over for you. Then you didn't pick up your phone when I called and I...was worried something had happened to you while I was gone." he admitted, giving her a small smile. Inside, her heart skipped a beat. Outside, she played it off with an eye roll.

"Wow, you really can't go a day without me, can you, Cap?" she teased.

"Honestly, I just missed hearing the sound of my own voice, Q." he shot back with a casual shrug. She rolled her eyes again, letting out a scoff as she tried not to smile. He grinned back at her before becoming serious, "Anyway," he moved on, "I'm sorry for interrupting family time." he jerked his head toward the window, "I'll let you get back to it." she gave him a soft smile, but hesitated for a second. She knew how he could get after ops - especially if it was a kill mission or one of Fury's clean-up missions. Having her there to talk to him about it was a good way for him to deal with whatever he had to do. She knew he looked forward to it, which was why she was always there when he got back - waiting for him on the dock. Except for this time. She had let him down in that area, but she wasn't about to let him down completely.

"You can stay if you'd like." she found herself offering. He hesitated, body half turned toward the door but his neck moved to look at her. His eyebrows raised up, silently asking her to explain further as to why she just offered him an opportunity to stay, "It's just the two of us and I promise he'll calm down after the effect of you has worn off." he let out a small laugh at her remark, "We're probably just gonna hang out and play a board game, if you'd like to stay." she gave him a small smile, making him aware that he had an out - he didn't have to stay if he didn't want to. His brow furrowed a bit, like he was weighing the options he had, then he made eye contact with her, nodding slightly.

"Yeah, I think I could stay." he gave her a half smile and she nodded back at him. She was a bit relieved that he was staying; she didn't have to worry about him being alone after his op. Plus, Frankie was sure to get his mind off of anything that had to do with it.

"Well, make yourself at home." she gestured to her apartment before turning away from him to go retrieve her brother from the fire escape. Steve stood in the same spot he had been for the past several minutes for another thirty seconds. Then, he forced himself to move, shuffling forward toward the couch that had been inhabited by Frankie a few minutes before.

Being in Q's apartment was still a new experience for him. Sure, he had visited her apartment before, stayed an entire day in it with her, but he still felt a little out of place. Her apartment was where her personal life lived and, while he knew how he fit into her professional life - he still wasn't sure how he fit into her personal life quite yet. They were friends, of course, he knew this and so did she, but - even though she was being very open and answering all of his questions, he could feel her holding back.

Inviting him to stay and hang out with her and her brother, felt like a test of sorts. Especially since he only just found out she even had a brother while they were in Brooklyn. It seemed like a big step in moving their friendship forward. Like she wanted to see how he was around her brother, if he could handle hearing stories about her pre-SHIELD and wouldn't judge her for it. So he was going to try really hard not to fuck it up.

The pair of siblings came back inside from the fire escape and he immediately noticed the family resemblance. They had the same dark hair, the same jaw structure and same eye shape - but where hers were a deep brown, his were a striking blue color. He shouldn't have assumed that something else was happening. What was that saying…?

Frankie fell onto the couch next to him with a loud sigh, cutting off his train of thought. Q went over to the cabinet under her television to pull out the board game she had mentioned earlier. He glanced over to see Frankie desperately trying not to look over at him, but his eyes would shift ever so slightly to him before darting back. He tried not to smile as Q came back with the game, setting it in the middle of the coffee table. She sat down in the loveseat that was next to the couch and Frankie pulled the upper half of his body up so he could lean forward and unpack the game.

"You ever play Scrabble before, Cap?" she asked as her brother set up the pieces.

"Actually, I have, Q." he answered, making eye contact with her. She pulled the corners of her mouth down and nodded. It had been a while since he had played, but he remembered the basic rules. He and Bucky used to play it with Bucky's sister whenever they had a sleepover. She always tried to pass off names as nouns, even though the rules clearly stated that no names were allowed.

The game started off slow - it was a slow game to begin with, but it gave them time to talk while they placed their pieces down. Steve kept score since the siblings got into an argument about how the other always cheated when they had to keep score. Q tried multiple times to pass names off as nouns while Frankie tried to make words off and pass them off by being confident enough where no one would question it. Steve tried to hide his amusement at watching the small, not serious arguments between the two; it was a little funny to watch Q interact with her younger brother. Even though she never brought him up or even mentioned him, they seemed close - volleying inside jokes back and forth and bringing up past experiences they had shared in an effort to embarrass the other one in front of Steve.

"So how long are you in town for?" he asked as Frankie finished putting his pieces down.

"Uh, just the weekend." he answered with a casual shrug, "Wanted to get out of Brooklyn for a bit." Another shrug and he shared a look with Q which made Steve think there was more to the story, but he didn't push.

"We were just in Brooklyn a few weekends ago." he remarked, trying to establish a connection between the three of them. He glanced over to see her giving him a sharp look, making him think that he said the wrong thing - especially when he looked over at Frankie to see him looking offendedly at her.

"And you didn't think to drop by?" he asked. His question was more directed at Q and held a tone of mocking. She rolled her eyes at him and reached into the bag for another letter piece.

"We had a schedule to keep to." she explained as if that was a good enough answer. He snorted and rolled his eyes,

"Right, sure you did." he obviously didn't believe her.

"Actually it was a very thoroughly planned out weekend." Steve chimed in, coming to her defense, "She even had bathroom breaks scheduled out." he added teasingly. Frankie laughed and she gave him an unamused look before putting down her letters.

"Didn't hear you complaining about needing to pee, Cap." she shot back airily, her Brooklyn accent getting more prominent as she spent more time around her brother. Again, Frankie laughed, leaning back and letting out a noise that sounded like a long drawn out oooooh. She grinned at him and Steve put his hands up, giving in.

As the game continued, beers were brought out and drank, and the conversation turned to Frankie's questions for him. Determining that he was harmless - really he was just like an excited puppy, Steve answered whatever questions he had. Q chimed in here and there about certain things or added her opinion, but otherwise she let the two of them talk.

"Okay, okay, I have a question." Frankie said, holding his hands up. One held a half empty beer can and the other had a letter piece that he had been holding for the past few minutes even though it wasn't his turn.

"Another one?" Q teased slightly, taking a sip from her beer. Her eyes shifted over to meet Steve's and they shared a knowing grin.

"What exactly is your superpower?" he asked, ignoring his sister's teasing comment. Steve raised his eyebrows at him, not understanding the question. Sensing this, he let his arms drop to rest on his thighs, "I mean, you're a superhero, right?"

"...Yes." he answered slowly, not understanding where he was going with it. He wouldn't call himself a superhero, but others did so he just went along with it.

"And you've got your shield as your weapon, but what's your superpower? Like Clark Kent can fly, the Flash can run really fast, Thor can make lightning appear out of the sky, Bruce Banner turns into the Hulk..." he trailed off, "So what's your power?" he asked, getting back to his main point.

"He's super strong." Q answered for him like it was obvious. Frankie shook his head, not accepting her answer,

"Nah, no, anyone can be super strong, you just gotta lift a bunch of weights." he pointed out, "That's not a power." She rolled her eyes at him and Steve laughed at his thought process,

"He's not wrong." he pointed out, gesturing to Frankie. Frankie grinned at him before taking a swig of his beer.

"Okay, fine, if you could have any superpower in the world, what would it be?" he asked a follow-up question, moving past his original question as Q dug through the bag for more letters.

"Easy. The ability to affect probability." she said casually with a shrug. Her answer was quick - she had thought about this before. Both boys pulled the same furrowed brow look, which she noticed. She took in a breath before explaining, "I would want to affect the probability of something happening or not. So say I want to win the lottery." she gave an example, "I can affect it so that I have an increased chance at winning. Or in a fight, I decrease the probability of me losing." She stared at them and then shrugged again before going back to her letters. Frankie leaned over closer to him so their shoulders were touching,

"She's a super-villain." he stage-whispered in his ear, making Steve laugh. Looking up, she gave them an unamused look and Frankie put up his hands, "You know it's true."

"It does sound a little villainy." Steve agreed with a slight laugh. Q rolled her eyes at them, tossing a piece at both of them.

"Shut up. All you have is your muscles." she stuck her tongue out at him, making him laugh again.

It was well past midnight once they finished the game. Surprisingly, Steve had won - he chalked it up to the words from the 40s he had used that had lost meaning over time. And when they didn't believe the words were real, he was fact-checked and Google proved them wrong. Sometimes, he really loved that search engine.

"I'm gonna head out for a smoke," Frankie said, getting to his feet and stretching his arms over his head. He had stayed shirtless for the entire game - something about spilling soda on his shirt earlier in the night.

Sitting next to him for the game, Steve got a good look at the rest of his tattoos, noticing that he had a whole bunch all up and down his arms. There were different symbols and designs that wrapped around his arms from his shoulders to his wrists. Not that he cared; he knew plenty of guys in the Army with tattoos - apparently Q even had one, but she refused to tell him where. He asked about them during the game and found out that Frankie owned his own tattoo studio,

"I like the creativity and freedom it gives me and I meet someone new every day." he had said as an explanation to why he opened the studio. He even offered to give Steve a tattoo on the house whenever he wanted one - Steve thanked him and told him that he would think about it.

"Q-J, you in?" Frankie continued with his question, pulling him back to the present. He had been using the new nickname all night, but no one explained what it stood for. Steve didn't want to ask either; it might cause some trouble and he had been doing so well with her test. Q put her hands up and shook her head,

"Nope. I quit a few years ago." she responded, making Frankie laugh.

"Bullshit. We shared one that night at the bar like last month." he shot back, exposing her. Steve raised his eyebrows at her and tilted his head to the side. She noticed and met his eyes, mouth opening a little before looking back at her brother.

"I was very drunk." she pointed out, even pointing her fingers at him to make it clear that it wasn't happening.

"Okay, whatever, Steve-o, you in?" he asked in the same breath, thwacking his hand against Steve's shoulder. He looked up at him and then looked back at Q; he felt like he needed permission. It wasn't so much because of the smoking; he was aware that it could cause cancer (he wasn't worried about that since he never got sick), but because it meant he would be alone with her brother. Another test. But all she did was put her hands up, meaning it was up to him to decide.

"Uh, yeah sure." he agreed. That wide, open smile from earlier spread out across Frankie's face at his answer.

While Q cleaned up the game and the empty beer bottles, he followed Frankie out to the fire escape. He shut the window behind them so that the smoke and cigarette smell wouldn't drift into the apartment. Frankie handed him a cigarette before lighting his own and then handing over his lighter.

"Didn't they think these things would cure asthma?" he asked as Steve lit his cigarette then took a drag from it.

"Yeah, but there wasn't any nicotine in them." he explained, giving a little history lesson, "Just atropine, which actually sometimes caused crazy hallucinations." he laughed a little as Frankie sat down on the steps of the fire escape.

"I'd rather have the asthma, honestly." he said with a shrug. Steve raised his eyebrows in agreement before taking another drag from his cigarette.

Smoking wasn't a habit he was trying to pick up again - especially after having a conversation with Dawson and Q about how terrible cigarettes were now. But it felt nice to do something familiar again. In the past, he and Bucky would sometimes smoke together in the bar after a mission. Almost in a celebratory way. And he felt that he had something to celebrate; he had made it through the board game with Q and her brother without any disasters happening.

They smoked in silence for a few moments before Frankie cleared his throat,

"I'm, uh, sorry about how I reacted earlier." he apologized, looking a bit embarrassed, "I just...I'm a big fan." he gestured to himself and then to Steve, "Got all your comic books, a few trading cards, maybe an action figure…" he trailed off with a half smile. Steve laughed a little, shaking his head at him,

"It's okay." he assured him as Frankie lifted his cigarette to his lips, "I guess I should be used to it by now."

"Nah, you deserve to be able to live a normal life." he disagreed with a shake of his head, "You saved - save, the world. The least we can do is let you smoke a cigarette in peace." he raised his eyebrows up, flicking against his cigarette. Steve nodded, silently agreeing with him before glancing over to see there was a little smile on his face.

"What?" he asked, getting his attention. Frankie let out a little laugh,

"I just never thought I would be smoking with Captain America." he laughed again, resting his elbows against his thighs. Steve gave him a smile, letting out a small chuckle, "I guess I'll add it to the list of things I have to thank my sister for." he sighed before taking another drag of his cigarette. Steve leaned against the brick wall, crossing his ankles as he blew out a stream of smoke.

"Seems like we both have a list for her." he agreed with a slight raise of his eyebrows, "She's done a lot for me." he admitted.

"I feel like you've done a lot for her too." Frankie remarked, squinting a bit. He looked over to him, tilting his head to the side as Frankie nodded thoughtfully, "I know the three of us only hung out for, like, a few hours, but I can tell she's different - a good different, but different."

"How so?" he asked. He knew a little about how Q was before SHIELD recruited her, but not enough to pinpoint the changes. She never talked about her past, always skipping those questions when he tried to ask. But Frankie had known her from the start - he could tell him. He took in a deep breath before answering,

"She smiles more." he said as if it were that simple, "And she's not as wild as she was when we were younger." he expanded a bit, "I don't know, maybe she just grew up." he sighed out, taking another drag and then talking as he blew out the smoke, "But either way, I feel like it's because of you." he said, pointing his dwindling cigarette at Steve, "You're good for her."

Not responding, Steve pushed off the wall and stepped over to the railing of the fire escape. He tapped his cigarette against the metal, watching the ash fall off and down onto the sidewalk below. Turning so he was leaning against the railing, he put out his cigarette against the metal, even though there was still another drag or two left. His thoughts were elsewhere - turning over what Frankie had said about him being good for Q. If anything, she was good for him. From what he could gather, she was already the way she was before him: the professional, put-together planner - and that was because of SHIELD, not him. He was the mess.

Gaze moving to look through the window into her apartment, he saw her straightening up the living room. She fluffed up the pillows they were sitting against and replaced them on the couch. She put the tray that was under the coffee table while they played the game, back on top of the coffee table - adjusting what was on it ever so slightly. Then, like she could feel his eyes on her, her head turned to the side and her eyes met his.

At her look, it felt like a soda can had exploded inside his chest - filling him with a fizziness that only came from when a soda can was shaken and then opened immediately after. He took in a breath to calm himself down. A grin spread across her face and he couldn't help but smile back. Then she stuck her tongue out him, making him roll his eyes at her and laugh to himself. She motioned to him - asking if he was ok out there with her brother. He nodded, giving her a thumbs up and a smile. She grinned back at him, returning the nod before turning away from the window.

A sense of pride washed over him; he felt like he had passed the tests.


	30. find your liesel

Over the weekend that her brother was in town, Steve had learned a lot of things. His notebook was filled with different pop culture topics, history he had missed and words he didn't know the definitions of. He liked Frankie. Even when he tended to get a little...overexcited.

Just like Dawson had, her brother had taught him a lot about how to be a modern man in the modern world. Except where Dawson had taught him about video games and action movies, Frankie had tried to teach him about relationships and dating - he found out that Frankie was something called "bisexual" which meant he liked both men and women. Not that it was a problem for Steve; he knew that there were gay people in his time, but that was a different time. It wasn't so easily accepted as it seemed to be now, in the modern world. And though it wasn't a problem, Steve found himself struggling with understanding it, but it didn't mean he would treat him any differently.

In an effort to try and help Steve, Frankie specifically made him something called a "Tinder" that would connected him to different women who found him attractive and who he found attractive as well. While it confused Steve, it clearly humored the kid to make him a profile, using one picture and filling his biography with the simple statement of "I'm Captain America." so Steve let him have his fun. He had "matched" Steve with a lot of different women - apparently a lot of women found him attractive which was still weird to him; he was so used to women not finding him appealing. A part of him still felt like his skinny self stuck in the muscular body science had given him.

After her brother had his fun, Steve couldn't figure out how to get the damn app off his phone and Q was no help. She said it was a good way for him to meet women and get out there. He assumed the "there" was into the dating scene. He knew that was going to be her reaction because she was always pushing him to go out and meet new people. Especially women. But just because he knew how she was going to react didn't mean he liked how it made him feel. Whenever they tried talked about relationships, he always got a bit nervous which in turn made him become serious and he shut it down rather quickly. The last time they tried to talk about his past relationships, he had gotten super defensive, super fast and flat out told her that he thought she only cared about him as a soldier. In hindsight, that may have not been the best move. She had shown him time and time again that he was wrong and he knew she really did care about him as a friend, not just an assignment.

Still, she respected his wishes and hadn't really brought it up again, just hinted at it here and there. And each time she did, he would just as quickly shut it down. Not because he didn't trust her or because he thought she didn't really care, but because...well he wasn't sure why. He just chalked it up to embarrassment at the lack of experience he had compared to her. He knew at some point, she would wear him down enough that they would end up talking about it.

Luckily, they did more than just making Steve uncomfortable with the "Tinder" thing. They were able to juggle her brother's visit along with the already set schedule that was in place. Frankie seemed happy enough to do whatever she told him - going with the flow and staying in her apartment while they went through their daily routine. Then afterwards, the three would hang out in Q's apartment or go to all the tourist spots that Steve had been taken to before. Thankfully, they avoided the World War II Memorial. He was better with the other war memorials, but they didn't stay there for long because Frankie was very uninterested in them.

The weekend passed quickly and on Monday morning, after their daily activities at the Triskelion, she left him to take her brother to the train station so he could catch his train home. Steve had exchanged goodbyes the night before and Frankie made him promise to call him the next time they were in the city. While Steve was a little sad to see him go, he was also a bit relieved. Each interaction felt like a mini test to see how well he could get along with her brother. And even though he had passed the Big Tests and they got along well, there was bound to be a slip up or a mistake. He was looking forward to getting back into known terrority where he didn't have to worry about anything except his usual routine.

Steve and Q had planned to get lunch together once she had dropped her brother off at the train station. Even if they didn't do their normal sit-down talks anymore, Steve knew they still had a lot to talk about: the op he had gone on a few days prior, Frankie's visit and other things that had come up over the weekend. He wanted lunch to be ready when she got back to his apartment, knowing she was bound to be "hangry" - a word she had used often when describing herself. He had used it a few times too and liked the meaning because it was true. She did get a little angry when she was hungry.

The deli had been closed all weekend, which was a little concerning to both of them. He had never seen it closed and knew how much Q relied on it for, well, really every meal she ate. Because of this, it meant he had to find somewhere else close to go to pick up their lunch. He had thought about making it, but that still required him to buy the proper ingredients, which could take longer than the time he had available.

As he walked down the block, he passed by the deli and was surprised to see that the open sign was blinking and the lights were on. He paused for a moment before deciding to go inside and get their sandwiches from there; it would be a nice surprise for her.

The bell chimed as he entered and the bright lights hummed above him as he made his way to the counter. Resting his forearms on the counter, he watched as Albert came limping out, giving him a warm smile and then waving at him. Steve responded with a smile of his own, taking in Albert's appearance. He was dressed in his usual all white outfit - complete with his apron, and the coloring matched the white tufts of hair scattered around his head. He was average height, but looked skinnier than the last time Steve had seen him.

"Hey there, son." he greeted him, "Where's your partner in crime?" he asked, referring to Q. He went about making the sandwiches they always got when they stopped by the deli for lunch or dinner. Steve liked how he had become a regular at the deli. It reminded him of how he and Bucky used to be regulars at their local Jewish deli in Brooklyn.

"She's running an errand." Steve answered, not knowing if Albert knew about her family or not. He took a quick glance around the deli, noticing how empty it was. It must've just opened, "But she'll be happy to know you're open again." As Albert made their sandwiches, he nodded, letting out a heavy sigh.

"Well, it's been a tough couple of days, but we can't let that stop us." he responded wisely. There was a sadness in his voice that Steve had never heard before. Over the past several months, every time he had stopped into the deli, Albert had been nothing by cheerful and welcoming. But there seemed to be something missing, it affected him all the way from his head to his toes. The way he held himself, the way he talked, and the way he looked - it felt familiar to Steve.

"Do you mind me asking what happened?" he asked quietly, not wanting to make the man feel like he had to answer him. He knew how it felt when someone (Q) forced him to talk about his past, those that he had lost. It hurt to talk about and he feared it hurt for Albert to talk about as well.

The man was quiet as he finished up the sandwiches. Sliding them over the counter, he made eye contact with Steve, who figured he wouldn't be hearing about what happened, until Albert let out another heavy sigh,

"I lost the love of my life, son." he answered sadly. His fingers intertwined and he looked off to the side as if staring into the past, "We were together for almost fifty-five years." he continued, sounding just as sad. Steve's heart broke a little; he knew that feeling all too well. Losing someone you loved for such a long time. It was earth shattering. But he was able to see her again in his lifetime - Albert didn't have the same privilege.

"What was she like?" he asked, wanting to hear more about the woman. Although he knew how it felt when someone forced him to talk, he had also learned how talking could be good. It could help work through the pain.

"She was perfect." A small smile came across his features, "My beautiful Liesel. Beautiful and poised. A wonderful wife and mother. She always wore her pearls and never missed a Sabbath service at the synagogue." he paused, "Wasn't afraid to speak her mind though, oh no. You knew when she had a stomach ache and you knew when she found a new pair of shoes." he laughed a little, leaning his weight against the counter, "She was so smart. Took care of all the annoying stuff when we first opened this place." he recalled, looking around the deli, "I still remember all of her plans and dreams she had." he looked back at him, "And I made sure they all came true." he said seriously, but there was a smile on his face.

"She sounds like an incredible woman, Al." Steve commented sincerely with a slight raise of his eyebrows.

"That word doesn't even begin to cover it." he responded with a small laugh. He paused for a moment before squinting a little bit at him, "Do you have a wife, son?" he asked. Steve laughed a little, then shook his head,

"No." he answered, leaning his weight against his arms that were still folded on the counter.

"What about a girlfriend? Someone you care about deeply?" he asked his follow-up questions. He went to shake his head again, but before he could - for a brief moment, Q's face popped up in his head as a viable answer to the questions. It made him pause just long enough to be confused at his internal reaction before he shook his head,

"No, no I don't have anyone like that." he answered truthfully. Well, semi-truthfully. If it was a different time, his answer would've have been Peggy. Before he went into the ice, there were moments where he had pictured the two of them ending up together. It had been a dream of his that sometimes flared up whenever they interacted, whenever she gave him hope. But that hope was squashed the moment he flew his ship into the ice.

"You'll find someone." he reached out to pat Steve's hand in a comforting manner, "And you'll know once you do."

"How did you know?" he asked. Not that he was intent on going out and finding his soulmate right then and there - hell, he was ninety-nine percent sure he was just going to die alone at this point. Still, he figured that if anyone had any wisdom to share when it came to such things, it had to be Albert.

"It was simple really." he sighed, answering his question as he looked off to the side again, like he was being transported to a different time, "We had grown up together and then one day...she just smiled at me. It wasn't any different type of smile she had given me over the years, but it felt different. It felt like it meant something. And I knew that she was the one I was supposed to be with." he said as if it were actually as simple as he said, "She was it." he sighed out before looking back to Steve with a sad smile.

"I'm sure she felt the same about you too." he said honestly, wanting to make the man feel better. Albert nodded, shuffling over to grab two pickles for the sandwiches along with the drinks they always got.

"We'll see each other again." he said decidedly, "Just not in this life." he slid over the drinks and other items for Steve to take, balancing them as he moved down to pay at the register.

"Is there anything I can do to help you with the deli?" he asked as Albert moved his way over to the register to ring him up. He had seen other men and women in the deli before, but it seemed to be just Albert at that moment, holding down the fort on his own. Helping out here and there was the least Steve could do considering the deli had become a staple in his life.

"Nah, I'm okay." he waved him off with his hand and a shake of his head, "But thank you for talking with me, son. It's nice to talk about her with someone. Keeps the memories alive, you know." he gave him a genuine smile.

"Trust me, I do." he admitted, lifting his chin up ever so slightly. Albert chuckled softly, wagging his finger at him as if they were both in on some sort of unspoken joke.

Steve wasn't sure if Albert knew who he was. Hell, if he hadn't gone into the ice, he would've been older than Albert himself. Over the past several months, he hadn't given any indication to Steve if he knew, but some people were better at hiding it than others. He didn't mind. He liked Albert. He had been one of the first people Steve had met in DC besides Q. They talked about times and things he wasn't able to talk about with Q. Well, he could, but she couldn't relate to his stories the same way Albert did.

"Make sure you tell your partner in crime that she doesn't need to worry about me." Albert said as he handed over Steve's change, "I'm just fine on my own."

"Well, I'm sure you'll be able to tell her tomorrow when she stops in for her morning breakfast sandwich." he answered, raising his eyebrows a bit as Albert laughed lightly at the mention of Q's daily breakfast sandwich runs.

"Be careful with that one, son." he warned half-heartedly, "A predictable seeming girl is always the most unpredictable." he gave him a smile to show that his warning wasn't meant with malice. If anything, it was advice. Steve nodded, unsure how to really respond to the advice he was given, and then stepped back from the counter.

"Thank you for the sandwiches, Al. And I'm sorry, again. Let me know if there's anything I can do to help." Again Albert waved off his offer and made a face.

"Just promise me one thing," he started, placing his hands on his hips, "When you find your Liesel, do whatever you can to make her dreams come true."

"I will." Steve answered seriously, pairing it with a tight nod. Albert nodded back at him, then waved him away,

"Now, go, you've got sandwiches that need to be eaten." he shooed at him. Steve let out a small laugh before turning away and walking out of the deli.

Walking back to his apartment, he kept thinking about how Albert talked about his late wife. Even with the loss of her, his eyes still sparkled when he recounted how she was. His smile was real and warm when he talked about when they were together. His heart still belonged to her when he talked about how he knew he loved her. He still loved her even though they were no longer together.

It made Steve long for something like that. Maybe he could've had it with Peggy. He still loved her, but deep down he knew that there was no way that they could ever be together. He had to accept that at some point. If they only had more time before everything, then...maybe. But that time had passed. She had already lived her epic love story with someone else, found her Albert. Steve was too late. Now, he didn't know if he could ever have someone, something like Albert had in his late wife.

He wasn't even sure how he was supposed to meet someone like that anymore. The app Frankie had put on his phone was supposed to make it easier for him to meet someone, but it just felt very impersonal. In a way, it really wasn't that different from back in the day; even before the serum, he never was a ladies man so Bucky had taken care of it for him. After he found a girl he fancied, he got her to bring a friend along for Steve and set them up together - though the girls always seemed to either pity him or just weren't interested at all.

Peggy had taken him by surprise and it took him awhile to figure out that she actually was interested in him for him, not just because of the serum. He liked the way he met Peggy. It wasn't a blind double date or through some app. First, she was a co-worker, then a friend and then it turned into what it did. Something more.

While thinking about how his relationship developed with Peggy, his mind volunteered Q as a comparison. It startled him a bit, making the fizzy feeling return while his heart dropped to his stomach. His face became very warm, very fast at the thought of Q. Even though he knew she wasn't around, nor could see inside his head (though sometimes it sure felt that way), embarrassment grew as he realized he was thinking of her in that way. The same way he thought of Peggy. He pushed the thought away; it wasn't right. They were just friends. That was it.

Not wanting to linger on what his brain just tried to do, he busied himself with getting their lunch ready. She wasn't at his apartment when he got back, but he was sure that she was going to come in at any moment. He set their sandwiches on separate plates, placed both pickles on her plate - he wasn't a fan of pickles, but she loved them, and then set the drinks and plates on the table for them.

He was grabbing a few napkins when there was a knock on his front door. Brow furrowing, he stepped over to the door. Q usually just walked into his apartment since she had a key of her own. When he opened it, Kate was standing there instead of Q. Her face broke out into a friendly smile as she held up a package.

"This was left at my door, but I'm pretty sure it was meant for you since I am not named Steve." she joked lightly as she shook the package. Her blonde curls bounced with the amused shake of her head.

Quickly, he tried to think about something that he had ordered. Not that he would think Kate would ever try to blow him up or anything like that, but still, he couldn't remember what it could be. Q had introduced him to Amazon a few days before...maybe it could be something from there.

"Uh, thanks." he gave her a quick smile. He reached for the package she was holding out to him and then remembered what it was.

Q had gotten a little tipsy on wine the same night she had introduced him to Amazon and forced him to buy a dinosaur coloring book and colored pencils. She thought the dinosaurs were cute but also joked with him that he might be coloring in his friends cause "Get it? You're old like the dinosaurs." and she had found that hilarious. He found himself laughing at her amusement.

"What's in the box?" Kate's voice pulled him back from the memory. He looked at her, seeing her gesturing at him before repeating her question, "What's in the box!?" It was a little more aggressive and her voice was deeper. He didn't understand the reference. At his confusion, her smile dropped a little and her cheeks began to flush red as she cleared her throat, "It's from a movie. Called Se7en."

"Never seen it." he answered, raising his eyebrows a bit.

"That's okay." she made a face and waved her hands down at the ground before crossing her arms over her chest, "I was just wondering what you ordered because I'm very nosey." she grinned at him.

Before he could answer her, he heard footsteps on the stairs. He could tell by the pattern and how the weight fell on each foot that it was Q. Sure enough, she got to the top of the steps and let out a huff; as usual she was a bit breathless from having to climb the steps. She pushed her hands through her dark wild waves and then slumped down. At the sight of him talking to Kate, she paused, eyebrows raising a bit. But she lowered them when Kate turned to see who was behind her and her body straightened up so she was at her full height - making herself a few inches taller than Kate.

"Oh, hi, Q!" she greeted warmly.

"Hi, Kate." Q responded, gripping the strap of her messenger bag as she ambled over to the two of them, "Whatcha got there?" she asked, jerking her chin out to the package in his hand.

"A mysterious package." Kate answered for him, wiggling her fingers at it before laughing and looking at Q, "Unfortunately, I can't stick around to see what's inside, I have to go get ready for work." she screwed her mouth to the side, dropping her weight to her left foot, "But enjoy the rest of your day." she waved goodbye to the two of them before heading back into her apartment.

Once the door was closed, Cap stepped aside to let Q inside his apartment. She walked inside, pulling off her messenger bag as she did. There was a knot in her stomach that she tried to untangle with a few slow breaths; she was just anxious about all three of them being in the same place. Just like all the other times. Well, it felt different than the other times, but maybe that was because the stakes were higher than before - now she could really lose more if he found out that Kate was actually Sharon, a SHIELD agent that was sent to protect him. Not just his trust, but his friendship too. Fuck, she really needed to figure out a way to tell him.

"So what was that about?" she asked, trying to be casual, but she could feel the tightness in the back of her throat. Probably just leftover from the combination of climbing of the stairs and the anxiety inducing conversation between the three of them. Clearing her throat, she set her bag down at the table, noticing that he had gotten sandwiches for the two of them and set them on plates. Hers was obviously the one with two pickles since he didn't like pickles.

"The delivery guy dropped that dinosaur coloring book you had me order at her apartment instead of mine." he explained as he walked in behind her. He moved over to the living room, putting on a record Frankie had made him buy at the record store they visited over the weekend.

"Ah…" she paused, "Wait, I had you order a dinosaur coloring book?" she asked, turning to look at him with furrowed brows. He nodded and she thought for a moment before remembering what he was talking about, "Oh right!" she clapped her hands together. She stepped over to where he set the package on the breakfast bar, opening it easily without scissors, "So you can color your friends." she grinned at him and he gave her an unamused look.

"Lunch is on the table." he nodded to the plates she had already seen, "And Al said not to worry about him." she crossed her arms over her chest and turned back to the table, humming to herself. He had gone to the deli, which meant it was open again after being closed for the past three days. Thank God. She was beginning to worry something terrible had happened to him.

"I'll check in on him tomorrow morning." she said decidedly, not seeing Cap's grin; he knew that was what she was going to say.

Sitting down at the table, Q brought one knee up to rest at her chest as she reached for half of her sandwich. When he finished unboxing the package, he dropped the coloring book and pencils down next to her before taking his seat across from her. She reached for the book with a gleeful smile on her face, flipping through it in one hand as she ate with the other.

"You know, I think you should take Kate out for coffee, Cap." she said nonchalantly, ignoring the rock in her stomach. She was probably taking too big of bites. Glancing over the book at Cap, she made eye contact with him, watching him chew thoughtfully. She knew about his mini crush on Sharon, even if he only admitted to it once after she forced it out of him. The rest of that conversation hadn't gone well and the door had closed, but she always tried to nudge it back open whenever he and Sharon interacted, "I mean, she brought your package over. I would've just kept it." she shrugged casually, making him give a short laugh, "Just as a thank you." she explained her original point.

"Maybe." he nodded, "Not sure if I'm ready for that yet."

"Sure you are." she responded matter-of-factly, "It's just coffee. It's not like you're asking her to marry you." she made a face, trying to show him that it wasn't that big of a deal. The rock in her stomach grew into a small boulder and she set her sandwich down, figuring a sip of soda might help. In the past, she hadn't ever had this rock/boulder in her stomach when they brought up Sharon and his crush on her. It had to be the food. She hadn't had it such a long time, her stomach wasn't used to it anymore. She just needed a distraction or three.

"I'll think about it, Q." he answered her, wanting the conversation to end.

Since his talk with Albert, he wanted to revisit the past conversation they had. Currently, his head was starting to spin with all the talk of relationships: both past and future. And even though, at some point, he did want to re-talk about how to go about his past and present relationships - just purely out of curiosity, he knew once he opened up, she wouldn't let up about it. He needed a small break.

She let him off the hook, going back to eating her sandwich - rather slowly, he noticed. Usually she inhaled whatever was in front of her, but she was taking her time. Probably because her attention was divided between multiple things. He watched as she took a small bite of her sandwich, colored in a part of a dinosaur in the book, then leaned forward to fill in some boxes of the crossword puzzle that was in the newspaper she didn't get a chance to finish in the morning, and finally turned her attention to the puzzle that was taking up the lower half of the table. Both of them worked on it together while they talked about whatever was on his mind or whatever was on hers. He was pretty sure it was making a castle that was mounted atop rolling hills against a sunset backdrop.

The record he had put on played softly throughout the apartment. It was a new one he had bought during their trip to the record store with Frankie. He had never heard of the band before, but liked the songs. At one point, he heard her humming along - very off tune, and she seemed lost in her own little world.

Ducking his head down, he tried to suppress the smile that was tugging at the corners of his mouth. The fizzy feeling returned in the center of his chest; these small moments always made him feel closer to her. He liked them. The moments where Q was just Q, not his assigned SHIELD analyst. Just Q...his friend.


	31. play ball

His motorcycle grumbled for a moment as he rolled up to the side of the curb, then he switched it off. Leaning to one side, he let the bike fall on to the kickstand. The night air was crisp with the season of fall and above him, the street lights flickered on. There, sitting on the bottom steps of his apartment building, was Q. He hadn't seen her since the Triskelion earlier that morning. His heart thrummed at the sight of her.

She was out of her blazer and skirt combo, instead wearing a pair of ripped skinny jeans, sneakers and a worn in Mets shirt with a matching baseball cap on her head, two braids coming down from the hat on either side of her head. He very rarely saw her in anything besides her blazer and skirt combo or blazer and business pants, or really anything other than business professional outfits. It was a nice change, made her seem more like a person. Like more than just a SHIELD analyst.

"Hello there, Cap." she grinned at him. Clearly she had something up her short sleeves.

"Q…" he greeted her, trailing off carefully. Usually she waited for him in his apartment or didn't come over at all until he was finished with his supper. This was new.

"Got plans tonight?" she asked, knowing full well that he didn't. She knew his schedule, hell she had made it for him. Sure, his days were his - after training he could do whatever he wanted. If he wanted to hang out with her, that was fine, but he didn't have to. But he made sure he kept his nights free in case he needed to talk to her, which he normally did.

"I'm sure I'm about to." he got off his bike, crossing over so he was standing a few steps away from where she sat. Her grin became wider; she knew something he didn't.

"Head upstairs." she jerked her head to the side, indicating for him to go to his apartment, "There's a bag on the table. Get changed, come back down and then we'll go." she instructed, that grin ever present. He eyed her for a moment before glancing up to his apartment. Then he held his hand out to her, which she declined,

"I didn't walk all the up there then walk all the way down, only to walk back up there again." she laughed a little, "You can do it on your own." he rolled his eyes at her. She really did hate exercise.

"I don't know if I should be nervous or excited." he said, keeping his eyes on her as he stepped around her. She didn't respond as he went into the lobby of his apartment. He was used to her coming in and out of his apartment so he wasn't that nervous that she had left something dangerous there, but he still had to force himself to take his time up the stairs.

Once in his apartment, he spotted the bag she was talking about on the table. It was blue and orange, matching the colors on her shirt. Next to the bag were two tickets to what seemed to be a baseball game. The Mets were playing the Nationals. He hadn't heard of either of those teams before.

In the bag there was a Mets jersey and a hat similar to hers. Apparently he was supposed to be rooting for the Mets. He wasn't sure why. Still, he changed into the jersey and put the hat on his head. The jersey fit snugly around his chest and shoulders, buttoning up all the way and hanging loose over his jeans. He ended up having to push his hair back so he could fit the cap comfortably on his head.

Grabbing the tickets, he exited his apartment as Kate was entering hers. She glanced over at the sound of his door closing and gave him a warm smile. He returned it, fiddling with his keys as he stepped away from the door.

"Headed to the game?" she asked, eyes glancing around his jersey.

"Uh, yeah." he looked down at his jersey. His cheeks heated up at her obvious once over. It didn't make him uncomfortable, but he certainly wasn't used to ladies checking him out.

"What? No city pride?" she asked, gesturing to his jersey. Again, he glanced down - the Nationals must've been the DC baseball team. When did they rename themselves from the Expos?

"This isn't my city." he said with a slight raise of his eyebrows. He said it lightly, so she would think it was a joke, but he was serious. DC wasn't his home and he wasn't sure it ever would be. Thankfully, Kate took it as a joke, giving him a smile,

"Right, right, forgot you were from New York." she nodded at him, "Well, have fun." she said kindly, "Hope the Mets win." she grinned before pushing open her apartment door.

"Have a good night, Kate." he bid her goodbye. He waited until she was in her apartment before continuing down the stairs.

When he exited out of the building, Q was waiting for him in front of his motorcycle. She had her arms crossed over her chest and a smile spread across her face at the sight of him wearing what was in the bag she left.

"A baseball game?" he asked as he jogged down the outside stairs. "I haven't been to baseball game in over seventy years."

"Jar, grandpa." she laughed out shaking her head. He rolled his eyes at her.

"And the Mets?" he asked, pulling the jersey out a bit.

"New York's finest." she grinned at him, tilting her head to side and watching his reaction. His brow furrowed and he looked down at the jersey, then at her, then around a bit.

"What happened to the Dodgers?" he asked, confused. As far as he knew, the Dodgers were New York's finest, Brooklyn's finest. And what about the Giants? Did they disappear too? God, maybe the Yankees met same fate. That would be a miracle.

"They moved to California in 1957." she explained simply. He let out a disbelieving laugh, falling back on his foot and running his hand over his mouth.

"Oh, I'm so glad Bucky's not around to see this. He would be so pissed." he mumbled to himself. She scoffed and rolled her eyes,

"Don't be so dramatic. At least, we have another team besides the Yankees." she said. At the same time, both of them continued with a mumbled, "Damn Yankees." she grinned at him and Steve couldn't help but laugh and shake his head.

"At least some things never change." he sighed out, crossing his arms over his chest. Q beckoned to him,

"C'mon, Cap. We got a game to go to." she said before patting the seat of his motorcycle. He stepped over to her, looking from the bike then back to her.

"Am I driving?" he asked, eyebrows raising. They almost always took her car or an Uber. She knew the city better than he did. She grinned at him.

"Actually, I was thinking I could." she copied his expression and leaned some of her weight against the seat.

"You can drive a motorcycle?" he asked, still being surprised by her. She tilted her head to the side, grin becoming cocky. It made him think of Bucky whenever he was underestimated.

"How do you think I got it to you?" she asked back, referring to when she brought it to him on his birthday. He pulled down the corners of his mouth and looked away from her, over her head and then back to her.

"Alright then. Let's go." he replied with a slight grin of his own. He tossed her his keys, only when she went to catch them, she missed and they clattered to the sidewalk. She let out a deep sigh and reached down to pick up her keys as he laughed at her.

Once Q was settled on the motorcycle, he straddled the rest of the seat and let his hands rest on his thighs. She took her hat off her head and slipped her wrist through the back so there was no chance it could blow off while riding. Then she looked over her shoulder to see him stiffly sitting behind her.

"Comfortable?" she asked with a slight smirk. Reaching behind her, she grabbed his hands and placed them on her waist. He felt his cheeks redden at how forward she was. He tried to keep his touch light, not wanting her to feel uncomfortable, even though she had forced his hand.

As the motorcycle zipped through the city, he had to admit that she was a pretty good driver. She kept the balance and the gear shifts were smooth. It wasn't too fast or too slow. She knew what she was doing. He kept his hands hovering over her waist; he didn't really need to hold to her, but it was a natural feeling while riding a motorcycle. Regardless, the touch was intimate and he didn't want to overstep.

When they got to the stadium, he understood why she wanted to take his motorcycle. There wasn't that much parking available. The bike could fit into smaller spaces that her car couldn't. She backed the bike into a space, angling it diagonally so it was pointing out toward the street. Steve got off first and then helped her off the bike, taking the keys from her as she put her hat back on.

"Let's play ball!" she cheered out, throwing her hands up in the air and grinning at him. He couldn't help but laugh before following her into the stadium.

The last time he had been to a baseball stadium was sometime before the war. It was almost a tradition between him and Bucky. They would go to Ebbets Field for a Dodgers game, getting bleacher seats for twenty-five cents. It was the perfect spot: up high, getting a full view of the whole field and being able to see everything that was happening down below. They kept score on their own little notepads, marking down strikes and balls, walks and base hits. A bag of popcorn was split between them along with a Coke, since they could really only afford one of each. The two of them always tried to dress in their nicest shirts and slacks, pairing it with suspenders and good shoes in case they met some girls who wanted them to explain the game to them. Well, they always wanted Bucky explained it to them more than they wanted Steve.

The stadium he was at now was much bigger and a lot fancier than Ebbets Field. Even before they entered, he and Q had to go through security to make sure they didn't have any weapons or anything like that on their person. There were multiple levels and escalators leading all the way up to the top. Before they went to their seats, they stopped at a concession stand and Steve almost had a heart attack at how expensive everything was. Ten dollars for a beer? Twelve dollars for two things of popcorn? Ridiculous.

After spending what felt like a million dollars on food and beer, he followed her toward another escalator. The tickets she had gotten them were even higher than he and Bucky used to sit; even after the escalator, they had to climb more stairs to get to their seats. They were on the third base line, in the top section, but in the first row. By the time they reached their seats, she collapsed dramatically into the seat and started to chug down her first beer. He grinned at her as he settled back in his seat. He had a feeling he was going to have to do the snack runs once the game started.

Taking a cursory glance around the stadium, the first thing he noticed was the massive screens up against the back of the stadium. They were playing some sort of video for the Nationals on one and the other flipped through the players on the team. There was an actual, electronic scoreboard across the way along with a few different panels that flipped through the scores of other games that were happening. Music blared all around the stadium as people filled into the seats. No one came close to their row or even their section. Most were wearing Nationals' jerseys and shirts, but a few were wearing the Mets colors.

Thankfully, baseball hadn't changed in the past seventy years. The game was still the same, but there was a lot more entertainment in between innings. During one, there was a race between mascots. Another had a few volunteers from the audience play some sort of game. Plus, there were games up on the screen as well - guessing where the baseball was or which train was going to win the race.

There were also chants. There had been chants before, but there were new ones he didn't know. Most were cued by music and the rest of the fans chimed in with the lyrics. Q seemed to know all of them, looking over to him with a bright grin as she yelled along with the chants. He got the hang of them and made her laugh when he joined her - especially when they changed the team name to the Mets instead of the Nationals.

Some thought that baseball was a boring game. That it lasted too long, with no action and no high stakes. They couldn't be more wrong. You never knew when a foul ball was going to come your way or if a home run was going to happen or even a double out. It was most exciting when something unexpected happened. Q loved it.

Growing up, she would skip school to go to games - jumping the turnstyles and sneaking all the way to the top for an afternoon game. She got a bag of popcorn and a Coke and kept a notebook of the score and the players' stats. Based on her recordings and observations of the players themselves, she could almost always figure out what they were going to do. Sometimes umps made bad calls and threw off her observations, but those were just outliers.

She hadn't been to a baseball game since being recruited into SHIELD. There just wasn't time and she couldn't very well skip out of work early to go to a game. Not with a job like hers. So when she found that the Mets were coming to town, she immediately bought tickets for her and Cap. Having read the files from when he woke up and how he knew the game was one he had been to, she thought it would be a good idea to take him to do something he was familiar with and already enjoyed.

And he was clearly enjoying himself. Baseball hadn't changed since his time so she didn't have to really explain anything to him except the newer entertainment that was in between the innings. The two of them sat in their seats, drinking their beers and eating their popcorn while they enjoyed the game.

"Oh, what the hell was that!?" she cried out around a mouthful of popcorn as she jumped to her feet, "Your strike zone is the size of Texas, ump!" she yelled as if he could hear her.

"Awh c'mon! Whaddya doin, ump?" Cap said at the same time, still seated as he let his hand gently motion to the field before he let out a sigh. She angrily shoved another handful of popcorn into her mouth before thumping back down into her chair.

"He's gettin' paid off on the side, I'm tellin ya." she kept her eyes on the game, but waved her popcorn bag at him. He nodded in agreement, crossing his arms over his chest. The ump had been calling bad ones the whole night, but the Mets were still up a few runs.

There was a sudden thwack as the bat came in contact with the ball. The two of them watched the ball fly up and away, heading for the stands. The outfielder ran to try and catch it, but overshot it and the ball fell short a few meters in front of him. Both Cap and Q got to their feet as they yelled at the runners on base to run. She was making a wide circle motion with her arm, swinging it around as he yelled at the players to run faster and go for home.

When the Mets scored, both of them let out cheers. Turning, she raised her hands up for high fives and he met her with his hands, grinning wildly. She had seen him like this before, back when they visited Brooklyn. It was happiness, but it was a different kind of happy. It was almost pure and completely unadulterated happiness. For the first time he looked like a normal, almost thirty year old dude. This was Steve Rogers.

When the excitement died down, she took her seat again, propping her legs up against the railing that went across the section. She leaned to the side and grabbed his arm with both of her hands, shaking him side to side,

"We might actually win this thing, Cap!" she said, teeth gritted in a wide, gleeful smile. He laughed at her, agreeing as she let him go.

In between the innings, the cameras tended to pan around the stadium and showed people dancing or waving signs or what not. It was always fun to watch, especially the times they asked people to do a certain dance or what not. But the Kiss Cam was her favorite one. When the intro music started, she slapped Steve's shoulder, getting him to look at the screens.

"What is a Kiss Cam?" he asked and she gave him a look.

"It's pretty self-explanatory, Cap." she replied dryly, "They show a couple and they have to kiss each other. It can actually be kind of sweet." she said. She took a small handful of her popcorn and settled back to watch the screen.

Some were awkward, some were sweet and some were funny. And then, all of a sudden, Q found herself staring at her own image on the screen. She did a double take, noticing that the camera was pointed on her and Cap. Oh no.

Glancing over to him, she saw that his face had become tomato red and he slid down in his seat, trying not to show his face. Of course, if anyone recognized him...all hell would break loose. She immediately looked back at the screens and shook her head, not sure where the camera was. She sliced her hand across her throat, indicating that they weren't going to kiss each other. The camera panned away from them to another couple, who kissed passionately. Her mouth was suddenly very dry and she immediately reached for her beer - she had had too much popcorn.

Then the camera came back to settle on them and Q almost choked on her beer. Some of the fans in the stadium started cheering for them to kiss and even though it wasn't everyone, it sure felt that way. It was deafening. She glanced over to Cap, seeing his knee bounce a little even though the rest of his body was as tense as ever. His gaze shifted over to her and he looked a little apologetic.

"I think we have to kiss, right?" he asked, gesturing to the screen, "I mean, that's the whole...idea…" he trailed off, sounding almost nervous. She took in a breath and turned to face him.

"Don't think about it." she instructed, not wanting to make it weirder than it already was, "Just kiss me." she quickly said. He shifted in his seat, getting closer to her. It didn't have to be that big of a deal. A quick, friendly peck. Just to get the camera off of them and lower the risk of someone recognizing him.

There wasn't that much space left between them. Her eyes quickly darted down to his lips before she made eye contact with him again. He hesitated for a moment before he surged forward, closing the space and roughly pressing his lips up against hers.

Q had been kissed many times before. But never like this. And wasn't sure what to expect, but she certainly didn't expect what she got. His lips barely made it to hers, only catching her bottom lip. The kiss was dry and stiff, hard and quick. His nose pushed up against hers since he hadn't tilted his head to the side and instead went straight in. She felt suffocated...and oddly disappointed.

Thankfully it was quick enough that she didn't have to deal with it for too long. She pulled away first, fighting the urge to grimace or wipe her lips with the back of her hand. Instead she slouched down in her seat and stuffed a handful of popcorn into her mouth. The camera moved on to the last couple before returning to the game. She kept her eyes fixated on the game, trying not to think about that terrible kiss.

For the rest of the game, Steve couldn't stop thinking about that amazing kiss. The only other people he had ever kissed were Lorraine and Peggy and both women had initiated it. This time, it was all him, and he was sort of proud of himself for delivering such a kiss. Even though it only lasted a few moments, it felt like time slowed down. He could still taste the mixture of beer and popcorn from her lips. His entire body buzzed with the fizzy feeling that had only lived behind his sternum. He took a sip of his beer, trying to calm himself down. He didn't want to give anything away, didn't want to do anything stupid that would ruin what just happened. But he definitely wanted to talk about it.

The game finished with a Mets win. Which meant it was time for Q and Cap to celebrate. Instead of going to a bar by the stadium, the two went to one closer to their apartments. It was one she hadn't taken to him yet; it wasn't on the bar tour that went terribly wrong. The bar was a shitty dive bar. It was empty for a late Wednesday night - just how she hoped it to be.

She had already had three beers at the game which meant this was going to be her fourth drink. She knew how she got after four drinks - overconfident and persistent. But she was also going to need another in order to talk about the terrible kiss. She could tell by Cap's face that he wanted to talk about it. And she was not looking forward to it.

Setting the beers down on their corner table, she lowered herself on the barstool across from him. He gave her a grateful smile as he took his beer and then lifted it to his lips. She did the same, chugging down half of it while he sipped his.

"So," she started, setting her beer glass down, "About that...kiss." she said carefully. His eyebrows twitched, giving away his poker face.

"Oh, yeah…" he cleared his throat, "It was…" At the same time, they finished his sentence. Him going with, "great." while she finished with, "terrible."

When she registered his answer, it made her pause. Her brows furrowed and she leaned forward, arms resting on the table. His face flushed and he looked away from her, hand darting out to grab his beer so he could quickly down the rest of it even though it wouldn't affect him. She had totally misread this situation.

"Wait, did you think that was a good kiss?" she asked, holding a hand up.

"...Yeah." he replied after a long pause. She sat back in her seat, eyebrows raising.

"Oh, oh wow...Cap." she said almost sympathetically. He rolled his eyes at her,

"Okay, don't do that, Q." he raised his hands up a bit, "You know I don't really have much to compare it to. And I was always kissed, not the other way around."

"Oh my God, stop." she groaned dramatically, "I know, Cap, I know, you were the hottest one on the SSR base." she teased, "Every girl wanted you." she smirked, ignoring the rock in her stomach. Bad baseball beer and too much popcorn was not a good combination. His face flushed and he looked down into his beer,

"Shut up." he mumbled. He was quiet for a moment, using one hand to spin his glass around on the table. She watched as he got lost inside his head for a moment and she let him, knowing it was centered on a happier thought than a depressing one, "So it was that bad, huh? Terrible." she suddenly regretted her word choice. It wasn't the worst kiss she had ever had but it was certainly awkward.

"No, no." she shifted in her seat, voice going up an octave as she tried to take back what she said, "Just...was that your first kiss since 1945?" she asked.

"Yes." he answered truthfully, sounding miserable. She rolled her lips in and nodded. She cupped her glass with both hands and continued to bob her head in a nod.

"Well, you should probably work on your aim before you do it again." she said, briefly pausing, "And your pressure." she added, "And try to relax." she straightened up in her seat, "And also, just a quick lick of the lips next time."

"Anything else?" he asked, raising his eyebrows and giving a self-deprecating laugh. She shook her head and gulped down the rest of her beer.

"Nope, just fix those things and you'll be good." she assured him with a nod.

"That's a lot to remember in the moment." he sighed out.

"So practice." she said with a shrug as if were the simplest explanation in the world.

"With who?" he asked. She shrugged again, going to take another gulp of her beer before remembering that it was empty.

"Kate." she answered him, trying not to be disappointed that she didn't have her beer anymore, "Nat!" her eyes lit up gleefully then she shook her head, "No, bad idea, don't do that." she shot her own suggestion down before continuing, "But definitely with Kate. Cause you like you and you should kiss her." she explained, waving a hand at him. She knew she was drunk, but he needed to hear her reasoning behind her suggestion. He laughed a little and shook his head,

"If I'm that bad of a kisser, I don't think I should be kissing anyone else." he sighed again, looking around the dive bar.

"Yeah, you're right." she responded unfiltered. Then she backtracked, "No, no, you should be kissing other people, but maybe not Kate. Not until you know what you're doing." she paused "A stranger!" she gasped out, proud of herself for her idea, "Kiss a stranger! It's totally fine, I do it all the time." she waved her hand at him. She actually hadn't been kissed since she ended things with Rumlow. Cap shook his head,

"I don't think that's a good idea." he shot her down. She heaved a sigh, raising her hands up and then letting the fall against the table with a hard smack.

"Then I guess you're gonna have to kiss me, Cap." she said matter-of-factly. She took her hat off and turned it around so the bill was in the back before placing it on her head again, "Since you apparently don't wanna kiss anyone else." Steve felt his heart skip a beat at her insinuation.

Since her confession of how much she disliked their kiss, he felt very vulnerable. He was so used to being good at everything immediately, that it felt like a gut punch to find out that he wasn't good at something so simple as kissing. He had felt so confident about it, really thought he got it right, but apparently he failed miserably. And he didn't even realize it until she pointed it out to him. Shows how attentive he was.

Then she had to go ahead and suggest herself as someone for him to kiss. He couldn't even look her in the eye because he was afraid of making the same mistakes and embarrass himself further. But she was insistent. Damn her fourth beer.

"Kiss me again." she had moved her stool over to sit closer to him. He was impressed she had been able to lift it. For some reason, alcohol always made her faster and stronger than she normally was.

"What?" he asked, having her heard her, but not understanding what she meant.

"Kiss me again." she repeated her instructions, "Do it the same way you did it before." she scooted closer to him, turning her face to meet his. He glanced around the bar, noticing they were in a very public place.

"Why?" he asked carefully, eyes shifting back to hers.

"Because you gotta get some practice before you go off and kiss Kate." he felt his stomach turn at the mention of him kissing Kate. He had never really thought about kissing her until Q brought it up. He didn't even know if she was interested in him that way. Before he could get too lost, Q grabbed his face with her hands, forcing him to look at her, "Focus up, Cap." she said seriously. She reached up and took his baseball cap off his head and then locked eyes with him, "Kiss me." He did as he was told, surging forward and kissing her the same way he had done it at the stadium. It lasted about five seconds until she pulled back.

"Okay, so, next time, tilt your head to the side a little bit so our noses don't go crashing into each other." she directed, pointing her finger in the direction she wanted him to turn his head, "Again." she readied herself and Steve did as she said. This time, he noticed that their noses only brushed up against each other and didn't come in full contact.

The next kiss was more about softening his lips and making sure they weren't super dry. He combined that with the head tilt, already feeling a difference. They built on that and he followed her instructions, knowing she had much more experience than he did. As they continued, he found himself not really caring if anyone was watching them - he was ninety-nine percent sure none of them were. He began to regain some of that confidence he had the very first time he kissed her at the stadium and he started to pay attention to how she was responding, adjusting so he was giving her what she wanted.

When they started, he felt a little awkward about kissing Q. She always kept a line between them. It had gotten thinner and more transparent over the months, especially after the trip to Brooklyn. But this felt like they were fully erasing the line. His brain went logically instead of emotional. She had started this lesson. And over their time together, she had taught him a lot of things, a lot of different ways. This was probably just another way she was helping him. It wasn't anything but another exercise in how to become a modern man.

Q knew that he was a quick learner, but damn, she wasn't aware of just how quick of a learner he was. She was ready to coach him through each step in the process of fixing his kissing technique, but he caught on fast. He did everything she instructed and then some. His kisses were much softer than before, much gentler and much slower. They made her feel and want and need and desire more.

"How was that?" he asked, pulling away from her and looking at her seriously. She felt like there were a bunch of little goldfish swimming around in her stomach. Clearing her throat, she nodded, looking away from his intense gaze and around the bar. No one was paying attention to them.

"Good, yeah, better." she continued to nod, looking back at him, "Final test. Incorporate everything you learned into the perfect kiss." she instructed, still trying to play it casual and like she had the upper hand. A small, sober part of her was beginning to feel like Icarus, having flown too close to the sun. Yet again, her drunk-self had sabotaged her. But she was more drunk than sober - obviously, and she was determined to have him perform the perfect kiss.

Cap nodded, pulling further away from her. He wiped his hands on his jeans and shifted his weight a bit. She watched him carefully, reminding herself that she couldn't get caught up in the moment. This wasn't about her. It was about him.

His eyes met hers and he gave her a half smile before shifting closer. The goldfish began to swim a little faster around in her stomach. Their knees were touching, brushing up against each other with every move and he adjusted his position on the barstool so his knee slipped in the space between her legs, the other on the outside of her other leg. He leaned closer, his hands moving up her arms to her shoulders and the goldfishes began to swim faster as his hands gently cupped each of her cheeks, tilting her face upwards just a little bit.

Holding his gaze, she tried to control her breathing as his eyes darted to her lips, his tongue darting out to lick his own. Slowly, he moved his face closer to hers, tilting his head ever so slightly and she thought her heart was going to burst out of her chest in anticipation. When his lips finally brushed across the corners of hers, the goldfish went wild. It was barely a kiss - a tease of what was to come.

Resisting the urge to move forward and deepen the kiss, she gripped the barstool, forcing herself to wait for what he was going to next. He lightly dragged his mouth over to the center of mouth, nose brushing up against hers, but not in the way it did before. This time, it was to create a feeling of closeness. His hand moved to the back of her head to support her as he tugged her face closer so he could deepen the kiss. It was perfect.

On instinct, she moved her hands to grasp at his jersey, bunching it in her hands and pulling him closer. She kissed him back, ignoring the little voice in her head that was screaming at her about professionalism. He looked so good in the Mets jersey, the fit was just right - not too tight, but not too loose. He tasted like the beer they had been drinking and he smelled like a mixture of popcorn, new clothes and the cologne she had bought him earlier in the month. The crappy bar music faded away, a loud silence taking its place. She didn't know silence could be so loud.

Kissing was always her favorite thing. There could be so many kinds, so many types. Romantic, friendly, desperate...Kisses could start or finish something. Kisses could stop time or make it feel like it was speeding by. It could be the hottest thing a person could do - kisses were important. But she had never been kissed like how she was being kissed by Cap. And she meant that positively, unlike the kiss at the baseball game.

All the other times before, she had pulled away first, but this time - he did. He lingered as he pulled away, placing soft, open mouth kisses against her lips. It left her wanting more, just as she had instructed he do. And then, he pulled away completely.

Her shoulders slumped down at the loss, suddenly feeling a coldness against her lips. She opened her eyes - when had she closed her eyes?, to see him staring intently back at her. His face was still a mere inches from hers, so close that she could feel his breath. His thumb rubbed a small circle around her cheek as he gave her a half smile.

"So, Q. Did I pass?" he asked, voice a bit breathless. For a moment, the question didn't make any sense to her. Her mind felt hazy, her reaction time was slow, the rest of her body was longing for another kiss. Until it all came rushing back to her rather quickly. She took in a sharp breath and immediately unfurled her hands, letting his jersey go.

"Yep, yes, you did...that was much better." she laughed, trying to find her footing again. She needed to regain control of the conversation, of what was happening. "Good job, Cap." she patted his chest and gave him a smile. His half smile turned into a relieved one and he sat back from her, hands leaving her face and going to pick up his beer. She cleared her throat and turned back to her empty glass, cursing herself inwardly for finishing her drink.

The conversation turned to a different subject - the rest of the baseball game maybe. She wasn't sure. She couldn't really pay attention, replaying the kisses over and over in her head. They were some of the best she ever had.

Who knew Captain America could be such a good kisser?


	32. something going on

"And then he had the audacity to tell me my code was rudimentary?!" Dawson shouted out, shoving his fingers into his chest, "Fuck him, honestly, it was because of his fancy shmancy new turbines that I had to re-do all of my code in the first place!" he angrily ripped off his tie, throwing it across the room. It didn't get much air or have as much impact as he wanted it to, which made him even more frustrated. "But he's Stark...Iron Man." he said disgustedly, "He's soooooo much smarter than everyone. God, fuck him." he huffed out. There was a beat of silence where Q was supposed to chime in, agreeing with him. But instead the silence turned into a long moment and he looked over at her. She wasn't even paying attention.

"Q!" he shouted out, throwing his arms wide. She looked over at him, blinking a bit as she stopped focusing on whatever it was that was going on inside of her head. He made his eyes wider and she straightened up, realizing that she was supposed to have a response.

"Uh, yeah, whatever you said." she bobbed her head in a nod, pressing her lips together and crossing her arms over her chest. He let out a scoff, dramatically rolling his head back and letting his arms drop to his sides.

"Thanks." he spat out, now annoyed with her too.

"Sorry." she apologized lamely, pushing off the table she was leaning against, "Sorry, it's been a weird couple of days." She rubbed her temple with the palm of her hand, "And I have my Friday Fury meeting today, so you know how I get."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, always gotta impress daddy." he scoffed, ignoring how she crinkled up her features in disgust at the nickname he used for Fury, "He's been on my ass lately too." he complained, "Making sure everything's perfect for this project so that it launches in time."

"Is it?" she asked, making him pause. He glanced over to her and bobbed his head in a nod,

"Yep, yeah. It's great." he answered, not wanting to tell her about his work on Project Insight or the side safety net project he was trying to complete at the same time. He knew she knew he was lying to her, but she didn't push him on it. He figured it was just because she knew how secretive the project was in the first place. But it would be finished soon and he wouldn't have to worry about it any longer. Thank God.

Project Insight was not his favorite project he had worked on over the years. He knew SHIELD did some pretty shady stuff, but this just seemed excessive. Before getting recruited into SHIELD, his whole deal was to make people aware that they were being watched by the eyes of the government. Exposing their secrets, taking sums of money from their accounts (for himself, yes, but that was beside the point), and shining a light on just how unsecure everyone thought their "secure" networks were. Now, he was working on a project that made it so SHIELD could be an overlord. Literally. Putting up helicarriers in the sky with a code (one that had already been created pre-Dawson) that would proactively strike out against potential threats before they actually happened. It was supposed to make everyone feel safer, but it just made Dawson sick.

Still, it was his job. He had to make sure the satellites and the code all connected so that the helicarriers could do their jobs. And it had taken him a little under two years to make sure the new stuff worked with the old stuff, only to have Tony fucking Stark come in with some fancy fuck ass turbines and change the game. He had spent the last six months trying to re-calibrate everything and just finished showing it off to Stark and Fury, one seemed pleased while the other tried to undermine him in front of his boss. The fucker.

The division he mainly worked in was the Cyber one. He was self taught in the world of code and computers before SHIELD. His job allowed him to grow and develop his skills for SHIELD's own personal use. He began to try his hand at engineering tech and weapons for himself, as a side project just to feel like he had some sense of freedom within the division. But once Fury got wind of it, he was tasked with doing it for the STRIKE team and other SHIELD teams. Sure he wasn't the only tech guy able to do these things, but sometimes it certainly felt like it.

The door to his lab opened, getting Q's attention more so than his. He already knew who it was - only three people ever visited his lab and one was already in there. She pushed off the lab table and greeted the visitor warmly,

"Captain Rogers." he glanced over to see Rogers walking in. After he had finished being torn a new one by Stark, he had seen Q and the Captain waiting for Fury to get their Friday Fury meetings started. Like clockwork.

Fury was much more Q's mentor than he was Dawson's. He trusted him enough to let him in on certain protocols or get away with certain things other agents didn't. Like the Deep Shadow Protocol or how he was okay with Dawson not wearing a suit like the rest of the agents. It was more about his ability to perform rather than the clothes he was wearing. And especially for the past two years, Dawson was performing above and beyond.

"Dawson?" Q's voice got his attention. He hadn't been paying attention to whatever the two were talking about. Raising his eyebrows up, he silently indicated that she could continue, "Are you okay with watching Captain Rogers while I'm in my meeting with the Director?" she asked politely. It was ridiculous watching her shift from the Q he knew to the ultra professional Q she acted like whenever Rogers was in her presence, so much so that he had to force himself not to laugh.

Ever since he had met Q, he had watched her go through different stages of growth. Starting out as the rebel without a cause or a care in the world. A few years younger than him, she was ruthless, trying to escape at every possible moment, seeming not to care about the material they were being taught, attacking guards and getting herself thrown into solitary over and over again.

Then she started to become calculating, cunning and using her ability to read people and figure out their next move to her advantage. Soon she was attempting escapes without ever lifting a finger. He was kind of impressed by her, which rarely happened with anyone. He had taken his sentence with stride, figuring it was the easiest and most painless way to. Just accepted where he had ended up, even if it wasn't ideal. Sure, he was salty about it, annoyed that he had been caught and frustrated that he was stuck, but he wasn't about to do anything that would land him back in prison. Q didn't seem to care about that.

Befriending her was both strategic and necessary to him. One, if he had her on his side, there would be less of a chance that she would kill him when one of her escape plans actually worked - maybe she would find him useful. And two, strangely enough, she seemed the most normal out of the bunch of recruits they were thrown in with. The only other person who didn't choose to become a SHIELD agent. At first, his motives were purely selfish. He didn't really consider her a friend but an unaware ally.

But as time went on, she changed. Became less of a rebel and more of a follower. In came the business suits and the professional attitudes. Fury became her mentor and her relationship with SHIELD shifted - as did her friendship with Dawson. He found himself actually becoming her friend. Before SHIELD, he rarely trusted anyone, knowing that he was the only person who could get the job done the way he wanted to. But as he grew closer to Q, he began to trust her more than he thought was possible - especially considering the first impression she made on him. And she started to trust him too. She came to him for advice, to rant, to rave, to be herself (or what he thought was herself). Clearly, she relied on him more than he originally thought. And continued to even ten years later.

Though he had to admit, over the past couple of months, she hadn't been acting like she had a stick up her ass every time she was with Rogers. And she had mentioned a few times to him that she felt like he was finally both respecting her and liking her as a person. She was probably just acting over polite because they were in the Triskelion and she had her Fury meeting - which tended to stress her out a lot.

"Yeah, yeah we can hang out." he nodded, giving her a quick smile and seeing her relax slightly. He watched as she looked over at Rogers, reaching out and putting a hand on his bicep.

"I shouldn't be longer than a couple hours." she promised, a reassuring smile gracing her features. Rogers nodded at her, copying her smile and their eye contact lingered for a long moment - long enough to make Dawson uncomfortable, before she looked away first. Her attention turned to Dawson, who ducked his head down, trying to pretend like he hadn't been staring.

"Wish me luck." she said as a way of saying goodbye.

Then it was just the two of them.

Over the past few months, Dawson had started looking forward to hanging out with Rogers every Friday. He liked the dude. Even though he was old as hell, it was fun hanging out with him and introducing him to things he didn't know about (it's not like Q would ever show him any horror movies...the wimp). He could always use more guy friends - hell, Q was really his only friend. And, not that he would ever admit it, but it was kinda cool to be hanging out with the Captain America. He wasn't sure if Rogers felt the same.

Dawson wasn't good with people; he found most of them annoying and stupid. He got frustrated easily with them because he couldn't understand why some of them acted the way they did. Not to mention, he knew he was better than all of them anyway so in all honesty, he really didn't care what they thought of him.

Or at least, that was the vibe he put off. Cool, chill, unshakeable, the IDGAF attitude he had perfected over the years. Regarding most people, he actually didn't care what they thought of him, but for some reason he did care about what Rogers thought of him. Maybe it was because of his Captain America status - who didn't want to be liked by a man like him. Or maybe it was because he was a tiny bit intimidated by Rogers.

First off, he was incredibly threatened by him physically. The man was huge. His biceps were the size of Dawson's head. Dawson liked to think he was in okay shape. He was certainly in better shape than Q, but no where near the physical makeup that Rogers had. He didn't quite tower over him, but he still had a few inches on him. He looked like a literal Greek god with his blonde hair and bright blue eyes - if he wasn't a superhero, the man could be a male model for sure.

Not to mention, the way he carried himself with such confidence that made an entire room shut up at his mere entrance. His physical presence was intense, but it was nothing compared to his attitude. He was serious and calm in every situation. He was effortlessly cool in a way Dawson could only try to be.

But he tried. He tried to act unaffected, unbothered by the fact that it was the Captain America. He had his awkward moments. Like when Rogers didn't recognize him from the helicarrier during the Battle of New York. And then he proceeded to bring it up after Q told him that Dawson was an agent. God, sometimes that girl...

The two of them hadn't even interacted on the helicarrier. He was placed by Sitwell to try and find Loki by looking through the traffic cams. Yeah, he almost got shot with an arrow by a mind controlled Clint (who actually apologized for it later, so that was nice), but Rogers didn't need to apologize for not remembering him. They never talked anyhow.

But he had apologized. And like most awkward moments he had with Rogers, he brushed it off in the moment only to think about them endlessly after the fact...

Yeah, okay, fine. He cared about what Rogers thought of him and wanted him to be his friend. Was that a crime? No. Of course not.

"You hungry?" Dawson asked, jutting his chin out toward Rogers. He stopped playing with the tiny screwdriver and nodded.

"Yeah, I could eat." he responded.

For being stranded in the middle of the Potomac, the Triskelion's campus had some decent food options. There were permanent food trucks, a cafeteria area inside the building and smaller to-go restaurants with a bigger communal seating area in the center. Of course he had tried them all, but he doubted that Rogers had. Usually he and Q didn't stick around long enough to have lunch on the days he had to train with Nat. The guy was missing out.

"What's the special occasion?" Rogers asked as the two sat down across from each other at one of the outside tables. He had taken him to the gyro truck because it was his favorite and he was certain that Q had yet to bring what with her steady diet of pizza, breakfast sandwiches and Lucky Charms.

Dawson raised his eyebrows at the question, not understanding him. He gestured to his outfit with one hand, the other moving to unwrap the foil from around the gyro.

"I think this is the first time I've seen you in a suit." he explained with a sort of teasing smirk. Dawson glanced down at himself, temporarily forgetting that he was wearing a suit. Or at least the makings of one. He had angrily thrown his tie across the lab and had unbuttoned the top two buttons during their walk through campus.

"Oh, yeah, I had a meeting with your Avenger buddy and Fury wanted me to look the part." he complained with a slight eye roll, trying to make it sound like no big deal, but also a big deal at the same time.

His meeting with Stark and Fury hadn't been the only reason why he had dressed a little bit nicer; he had been trying to put in a little more effort into his outfits ever since Natasha had shown interest in him. He figured she wouldn't want some thirty-one year old who still dressed like he was a twenty-one year old. So he was trying to look a little bit cooler, nicer, sauvier. Of course Rogers would notice before she did…

"What are these things called again?" Rogers asked, turning the gyro around in his hand as he surveyed the thing he was eating.

"Gyros." he answered out of the side of his mouth that was currently filled with food, "They're Greek." Rogers nodded thoughtfully at his explanation before looking back at him,

"They're good." he complimented before taking another bite of his.

A silence fell over their table as the two of them continued to eat. The pair of them were sitting outside, other SHIELD agents and analysts walking around the area or eating lunch as well. Thankfully September was finally turning into October, which meant it was cool enough to sit outside without getting too hot or being too cold. Dawson watched as he glanced around their surroundings, ever aware of what people were doing. That part he was used to; Q would do the same thing. But he wasn't sure if he should say something to start a new conversation or not.

Whenever he did hang out with Rogers, they usually just played video games or watched a movie until Q came back. Once, they went to the shooting range down the hall and a different time he taught him how to get rid of those porn ads on his laptop. They never really did anything that required casual conversation and he wasn't sure how to continue. What do you talk about with a ninety-five year old, recently defrosted super soldier?

"Is that your book of the future?" he asked, jerking his head to where Rogers had placed the little notebook he had seen before. He knew he used it to write down things that were unfamiliar to him, things he had missed while being an ice pop.

With a nod, Rogers answered him silently since his mouth was full of gyro. That didn't stop Dawson, who continued with his line of questioning, "Can I see what you've got in there now? Maybe I can help with a few." Using his free hand, Rogers slid the notebook over so that Dawson could take it. He flipped open to the current page and glanced over the list.

"I Love Lucy?" he asked, not being able to hide the disgust in his voice. His eyes flicked over the notebook to look at Rogers who had swallowed his bite and was now nodding.

"Q referenced it earlier in the week."

"Of course she did." he muttered out under his breath. He looked back at the list and his brow furrowed again, "The Moon Landing? Oh my God, dude." his gaze returned back to Rogers, "Don't you go to the Smithsonian like every weekend?" he asked, eyebrows raising, "Isn't that covered?" Rogers shrugged and cleared his throat,

"Uh, Q apparently thinks that the moon landing was faked, so we always skip it." Dawson rolled his eyes. He had heard her moon landing theory before but never thought she was serious about it.

"Oh my God." he groaned, handing back the notebook, "Well, if you're that far behind in history, you might as well put down the Berlin Wall too." he said as a half joke, but Rogers started to jot down what he had said, looking concerned,

"Wait, there was a wall in Berlin?" he asked, looking over at him.

"Yeah, it went up then it went down..." Dawson waved his hand in the air, "I don't know, look it up." he sighed, not really feeling like giving a history lesson, "Jesus, man, you gotta get out more. Stop hanging out with just Q."

"Yeah, that's what she thinks too." he agreed with a heavy sigh, almost sounding disappointed by it. His phone dinged, making Dawson check his as well. When she was finished with her meeting, Q would text both of them at the same time so that they both were kept updated. But there was no text on his screen. Then Rogers let out an annoyed groan.

"What's up?" he asked, leaning forward in his seat to try and see what was happening.

"Q's brother set me up with this thing called...Timber? Tinder." he corrected himself, "And I can't seem to get the people he matched me with to stop messaging me or delete the thingie from my phone." Dawson tried not to laugh. These were the moments where he was reminded that Rogers was actually a ninety-five year old man. He wasn't used to the different technologies or societal ways that had developed over the time he had been frozen.

"Here, hand it over." he gestured for the phone. Taking the phone from him, he opened the app to see his profile. He let out a little snort as he looked from the profile to Rogers, "I'm Captain America?" he asked out, eyebrows raising. Rogers shrugged, clearly not involved in any part of the Tinder process. Heaving a sigh, Dawson quickly deleted his profile and then deleted the app from his phone. It took about thirty seconds and was literally the easiest thing he did that day, but Rogers was looking at him as if he just disarmed a bomb.

"You made it look so simple."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm a regular Steve Jobs." Dawson grumbled, trying not to show that he appreciated the compliment. Rogers' brows furrowed at the name and Dawson let out a heavy sigh. Q's whole job was to make sure Rogers knew everything was to know about the modern world but she hadn't even taught him about Steve Jobs? She was slacking.

"Steve Jobs." he stated, matter of factly, as if Rogers were stupid, "Apple." By the look on his face, it was clear he didn't understand what Dawson was talking about. He let out a sigh as Rogers reached for his notebook, going to write down what he had referenced. He needed to have a serious talk with Q about her approach.

"So why did her brother set you up with a Tinder?" Dawson asked as he reached for his soda. He was a little salty that he had been friends with Q for ten years and not once met her siblings, but Rogers had met one in a matter of months. Rogers took in a breath, clicked his pen and shut his notebook,

"I don't know. I guess to get me out there." he sounded like he was repeating something she had said to him, but didn't quite believe it - or that he didn't want to. He shrugged, leaning forward a bit, "She keeps trying to set me up with my neighbor, Kate." Dawson felt himself take in a surprised breath, forcing the soda to go down the wrong pipe and instead throw him into a coughing/choking fit. He had forgotten that Sharon was actually Kate. And that she was Rogers' neighbor - him not being aware that she was really his protection detail.

"And you don't...you're not into that - her?" he asked carefully, trying not to give away that he knew who his neighbor actually was. Rogers paused, eyes darting down and away from him as he thought about how to answer the question,

"I don't know." he settled on, "She's nice and beautiful...but I'm not sure...I don't think I'm quite ready to ask her out yet." Dawson's brows furrowed as he chewed on his straw. It seemed like his answer was a cover-up for the real reason he hadn't asked Sharon out yet. A part of him wanted to push further, but another part didn't even want to get involved. The conversation was headed into an area that was Q was better suited for; it was her job to talk to him about this sort of shit, not his.

So he let it go, changing the subject and letting Rogers finish his gyro. A little bit later, their phones buzzed with messages from Q, telling them that she was finished with her meeting. She met them back in his lab, looking a little more relaxed than before she went into her meeting.

"Have fun?" she asked Rogers as he crossed his arms over his chest. He grinned at her, nodding and then tilting his head toward Dawson,

"Dawson got that damn app off my phone." he said in a tone that made it clear that he had asked Q over and over to, but she didn't do it for him. She rolled her eyes and scoffed, trying not to smile as she looked over to Dawson,

"How could you?" she asked, mock-offended. He shrugged,

"The dude's too old for online dating." he responded, eyes shifting to where Rogers was had a pleased grin on his face - directed at Q, who rolled her eyes at him again. He waved his screwdriver at the two of them, "And he's got that cute neighbor you keep trying to set him up with, remember?" Referring back to what Rogers had said during their lunch, thinking it was public knowledge.

Dawson might not have been good with people or been able to read them the same way Q did, but he could tell that he might've said the wrong thing. At the mention of Sharon, Rogers' cheeks flushed and he shoved his hands into his pockets, eyes darting to Q before dropping down to the floor. Her eyebrows twitched ever so slightly before her poker face slid over her features, her grip on her messenger bag becoming a bit tighter and then she cleared her throat loudly.

"Right! Kate!" she answered, trying to sound excited as she turned to Rogers. Dawson raised his eyebrows up at the reaction; that was the fakest he had ever heard her act with Rogers, "We're working on it." she assured Dawson with a pat on Rogers' arm as she turned back to look at Dawson with a grin that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Right…" he trailed off, very unconvinced. At least now he knew why Rogers didn't want to ask Sharon out. But he didn't understand why Q reacted in a such a weird way too. She had mentioned it had been a weird few days, but hadn't elaborated - nor did Dawson give her the chance to.

"Okay, well, we should get going." she turned to look at Rogers, hand still on his arm, "Thank you for hanging out with him, Dawson." she looked back at him. He nodded, giving her a tight smile,

"Hey, do you wanna do laundry tonight?" he asked Q before they left. While he did want to hang out with her and do laundry, their laundry nights were where they had their most serious heart to hearts. He had a bit of an ulterior motive, wanting to see if there was anything going on between her and Rogers; he felt like there was, but he didn't want to assume anything.

"Uh, I can't." she gave him a little apologetic smile, "We have plans." she glanced at Rogers, who looked back at her with a grin. Dawson lifted his chin up, eyes darting in between the two as he let his mouth open a bit.

Oh yeah, there was definitely something going on between the two of them.


	33. f(irst)ake date

Stepping out of the elevator, he slipped his hands into his pockets and glanced around the main area. Q was sitting at her usual table, hunched over a puzzle. She had come with him, but stayed downstairs in the main area - not wanting to intrude on his time with Peggy. She hadn't noticed him yet; focused on the puzzle she had been working on for the past six months. The nurses were kind enough to not let any of the other residents or visitors touch it.

Steve watched her for a moment, noticing how her expression was focused and determined. Her eyes were sharp, but her lower lip was protruding in a soft pout. It made her manner seem a little less intense. He leaned against the doorframe of the room, arms crossing over his chest. From his position he could see that it was turning out to be a landscape of some mountain range with a castle nestled in the middle. She only had a few more pieces to place down and her face softened even more as she realized she was getting closer to finishing. He didn't dare disturb her; he wanted her to finish it and was curious to see what happened after she did.

A few moments later, at its completion, she sat back in her chair with a proud grin. She bit her bottom lip and nodded to herself, her eyes flicking over the puzzle. Her hands skated lightly over the puzzle, admiring her work. It was such a pure, almost intimate moment that made Steve feel as though he was sharing something special with her.

In that moment, everything around him shifted. Almost like everything was coming into focus after the longest time. And she hadn't even done anything to him. All that had happened was that he had watched her get excited over finishing her puzzle.

But in that same moment, he finally understood what that fizzy feeling that had been plaguing him ever since New York was.

He had feelings for Q.

At the realization, Steve felt his palms become sweaty and dropped his arms to wipe them on his jacket. The fizzy feeling left his body, but stayed by him, swirling around until he could practically hear it. No, he couldn't have feelings for her. She was his friend - and his assigned SHIELD analyst. This wasn't how feelings for someone were supposed to arise, it happened too quickly. It was supposed to be slow and steady, a gradual growth - not fast and hard, an instant change. There was no way he could have feelings for her.

But then she looked at him.

Even though she had looked at him countless times before, it was like it was the first time she had ever looked at him. The corners of her warm, brown eyes crinkled up as she gave him an easy smile. He had to remember to respond with one of his own. Shit. He did have feelings for her.

He swallowed hard, trying to get his act together. He didn't want her to know - she couldn't know, not yet. Usually she was able to read him like an open book, so he needed to make sure she couldn't. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable or like she had to feel the same way he felt about her. So he would try his very best to keep what he'd realized under wraps.

"How's Peggy?" she asked as he moved over to the table she was getting up from.

"She's doing well." he replied truthfully.

Today was one of Peggy's good days. She remembered him the whole time. They talked about the past, both theirs and hers. Reminiscing about Camp Leigh, her teasing him and him rolling his eyes at her. Then came the parts he missed. She told him stories about what happened to her after he went into the ice, about how she founded SHIELD with Howard and everything in between. Well, what she could remember at least.

"That's always good to hear." Q commented honestly. She always hoped he had good visits with Peggy. But when he didn't, he could always count on her to distract him or make him feel better. He was lucky to have her.

Of course, he knew this. Sure, in the beginning, he loathed having a SHIELD lackey follow him around all hours of the day. Like he was a ticking time bomb that was about to explode. In a way, he was. And he did. A couple times. Yet, Q stuck by him through it all. Didn't make him feel bad for it or even try to stop him. In fact, she encouraged it. Said it was all part of the process.

As the days turned to weeks, the loathing turned into something else. He didn't quite like having to talk to her every day, but he had grown accustomed to her. Then he actually did start to like it - looking forward to seeing her and talking with her. He started to feel better about where he was, especially because he had someone by his side to talk through the hard times.

From there, it morphed into a friendship. He never would've guessed that she would become his first actual friend. He didn't have, well, really any friends in this time. He had teammates or co-workers, no one he could really call a friend. The last real friendship he had was with Bucky. That was until Q proved that he could trust her and that she was a friend.

And now...now he could only hope that one day he could have something more with her.

When they got back to his apartment, Kate was walking into the building at the same time. Her arms were full of groceries and she was clearly struggling to open the door while holding onto her groceries. Quickly, he moved to open the door for her, giving her a warm smile as he did.

"Thank you." she sighed out gratefully, "Hi Q." she greeted her, sticking her head out a bit so she could make eye contact. Q pushed her head around his body, grinning at her,

"Hi, Kate!" she responded lightly, excitedly almost. He glanced back from Q to her, seeing that she was still struggling a bit to maintain her balance with her grocery bags.

"Do you want me to grab a few of your bags for you?" he asked politely. He could practically feel Q's eyes - and her grin, on his back. Kate gave him a smile, nodding a bit.

"That would be great, thanks." she answered and he went ahead and took a few bags in his hands, "I always try and make it one trip but then end up regretting it." She was trying to relate with him, he could tell, so he gave a little laugh in response.

"What are neighbors for, huh?" he lifted his chin up at her as they walked up the stairs. She gave him a grin in agreement.

They got to her apartment and she managed to open her door without his help. He stayed where he was, not wanting to intrude since she didn't invite him in. Q gave him a wide eyed encouraging look as she waved her hands at him, indicating that he should go inside. She moved off to the side, out of view as Kate came back to the door.

"Thank you, Steve." she said gratefully, "I can always count on you to save me, can't I?" she asked with a small smile. He felt his throat tighten a bit. She never indicated if she knew that he was Captain America or not, so he wasn't sure if her comment meant more than it could've.

"Always." he said, deciding to answer her question truthfully. Her smile widened and she nodded at him,

"Good to know." her tone was light, "If I have any more heavy items, I'll make sure to knock on your door." Obviously it had nothing to do with his Captain America status, but his ability to carry things. His shoulders relaxed as he placed his hands on his hips and gave her an easy smile,

"I'd be happy to help carry them up." he responded. She laughed, her blonde curls bouncing a bit as she nodded again,

"I'll see you around, Steve." she said before stepping back to close her door.

When he turned away from the door, Q immediately stepped in front of him. She blocked his path to his apartment, eyes wide and mouth open in a big smile. Her hands were splayed as he watched her mouth Oh. My. God. He rolled his eyes at her and went by her, knowing what was coming next.

Ever since she practically forced him to admit that he had a small crush on Kate, she had been nagging him to ask her out over and over again. Every time she witnessed an interaction between the two, she brought it up. At first, it made him feel a little embarrassed by the insinuation. But now he just found it annoying. And frustrating; he didn't feel the same with her as he did with Q. He wished he never fell for her trap and admitted anything concerning Kate.

"Cap!" she followed him into his apartment, shutting the door behind her, "Cap! You have to ask her out!" His stomach rolled at her comment. It always did when she mentioned asking Kate out, usually because of nerves, but now it felt different. He still felt nervous, but a different kind of nervous. Almost like it had to do with Q's reaction to when he would tell her about his feelings toward her.

"I don't have to do anything." he said matter of factly, lifting his chin up at her. She rolled her eyes at him. He went into the kitchen to start making lunches for the both of them and she settled onto the stool she built in front of the breakfast bar.

"How do you expect to find dates since you had Dawson delete Tinder, hmm?" she asked, resting her arms on the counter. He glanced over at her, seeing her curious look. He tried not to stare, remembering that he couldn't give away what he realized at the retirement home.

"I don't." he said, tone still the same as he waved the knife in the air. She groaned dramatically and slouched down in her seat. Her arms splayed out in front of her as the side of her head went down onto the breakfast bar. Steve tried not to laugh, but couldn't help the small smirk that was tugging at the corners of his lips. Before he would just roll his eyes at her dramatic reactions, but now he was beginning to find them quite endearing.

"Just ask her out, Cap." she pleaded with him, picking up her head. He turned away from her to hide his amusement at her dramatic overreaction.

"I wouldn't even know what to do on a date, even if I had could get one." he admitted truthfully with a slight sigh. A moment passed with no response. She was quiet, too quiet. He dared to take a look over his shoulder to see her giving him a conspiratory grin. Oh no.

She shifted in her seat, bringing her arms closer together but letting her hands move around the top of the breakfast bar. She sat up a bit straighter and tried to look innocent, but she was failing.

"Well then, I guess...you're just gonna have to take me out on a date." she said casually, like she had the night where she encouraged him to kiss her over and over again. At the thought of taking her out on a date, he could feel his face heat up and knew it was turning red. Not because he was embarrassed by it, but because he was anxious about it. Luckily, she thought it was the former.

"Oh come on, Cap." she gave him a look, tilting her head to the side, "It's not like it'd be a real date or anything." she explained, "Just a practice one." He took in a breath, focusing on finishing up the sandwich he was making her.

With the quick self-correction, he got the sneaking suspicion that maybe she didn't feel the same about him. Why would she? He hadn't done anything that would make her have the same feelings he was currently drowning in. Maybe this was his chance to see if she did.

"Okay." he agreed with her, turning to face her as he handed her the sandwich he made for her, "I'll take you out on a date." she let out a slight laugh as she took the sandwich.

"You have to ask, you know." she took a bite, "You can't just tell someone you're taking them out on a date." He raised his eyebrows at her, chewing thoughtfully for a moment before putting his sandwich down and brushing his hands off.

"Q." he stated, placing his hands flat on the breakfast bar. She looked up at him, sandwich half in her mouth, "Would you like to go on a date with me tomorrow night?" his eyes locked with hers and they held eye contact for a long moment. She took the sandwich out of her mouth, a smile spreading across her features,

"I would like that very much, Cap." she answered him, pulling herself up a bit straighter. He grinned at her reaction before going to pick up his sandwich again.

With a little over twenty-four hours to organize everything, Steve tried to make sure the date was perfect. He had only ever been on double dates and Bucky always planned those. Not to say that they were terrible dates; they always seemed to work out for Bucky, but Steve wanted to do it his own way.

Even though she bothered him about it the whole day leading up to the date, he didn't give her any details. Only an idea of how she should dress and a time he would pick her up. He intended on keeping the rest under wraps until the last possible moment. Was this his way of trying to sweep her off her feet and show that he liked her without really having to admit it? Yes. Did he hope that in a way, it would make her like him just as much? A hundred percent. To her, this was a fake date in the efforts to help him, but to him this was their first date. And he planned on taking Q out on many more of them, if she allowed him.

Still, he had to remind himself to not give anything away too soon. Just in case she didn't feel the same as he did because then he would have effectively ruined everything. He couldn't risk losing his only friend, maybe even his best friend. So he would play his part in the pretend date, all the while knowing it was real for him.

At exactly seven pm on the dot, Steve buzzed up to her apartment. As he waited for her response, he tried to calm his nerves. It was a fake date, a fake date...a...fake...date. He slipped his hand into his jacket pocket, glancing down at himself and already knowing that she was going to tease him for wearing khakis. But he didn't wear a shirt with a pattern, choosing a solid colored one to match the pants. He had even styled his hair the way she liked it, using that hair stuff she had gotten him. He was trying.

Loosening his grip on the flower bouquet he picked up at the deli on his way over, he heard the click of the speaker.

"Hello?" her voice came through the small plastic box. He could almost hear her smile in her voice. He took his hand out of his pocket and pressed down on the other button to respond,

"Hey, it's Steve...Rogers." he responded, hearing her laugh.

"Right, cause I know so many Steve's, Cap." she teased before he heard the click of the door. He moved forward, a grin already spreading across his features as he entered the building. When he got to her apartment door, he knocked once, then stepped back, waiting for the door to open. Which it did, to reveal her on the other side.

Over the past six months, Steve had seen her in a ton of different business suits and pencil skirts. Her hair was either up or pulled back away from her face and her makeup was professional. Like the women in the SSR who always had their faces painted perfectly. The rare times he did see her in anything else, it was either jeans and a t-shirt or a dress. And now, she was sort of wearing a dress, but it was a floral patterned, long sleeved one that was much longer than the one before, touching her toes and had a very long slit up her right leg to the bottom of her thigh. Her hair was tamed into soft curls, one side pinned back by a butterfly hairpin. There was no sign of the wild waves he was used to. While her face was usually painted like the women he was used to, the soft pink on her lips and contrasting eyeshadow was a welcome change - and matched her dress. She looked absolutely stunning.

"You got me flowers?" she asked, getting his attention. She sounded surprised and there was a happy smile on her face. He glanced back at the flowers and realized they looked dull compared to her.

"I did." he cleared his throat and handed them out to her. She took them in both her hands, smile never fading as she turned away from him.

"I have to put these in water." she said, walking back into her apartment, "You can come in!" she called out as an afterthought. He stepped into her apartment and shut the door behind him. From where he was, he could see her walking into her kitchen and taking an empty vase that was on one of the shelves. He moved to the breakfast bar by the door and leaned one hand on the countertop.

"So, do I find out where we're going now?" she asked with a slight raise of her eyebrows. He laughed a little and shook his head,

"Not until we get there." her smile faltered and a shooting pain went through his gut. How had he managed to fuck up already? It had only been approximately five minutes. "Is that okay?" he asked, regretting his plan of action. His hand curled into a fist and he started to tap it lightly against the counter.

"Uh, yeah." she nodded as she went about putting the flowers in the vase with water, "I just am not a big fan of surprises." she admitted with a glance to him. She gave him a small smile, "I like plans, you know? I like knowing what's gonna happen and when." he nodded at her. That made sense. She always planned everything for him, even the small amount of time they didn't spend together - she still planned for before and after.

"Well, if you really want to know, I'll tell you." he offered, wanting her to feel better about the date. She shook her head at him, waving her hand a bit too.

"No, no, you put a lot of effort into this. I'm not gonna make you ruin this." she gave him a reassuring smile, "But I am starving, so tonight better include food." she said seriously, smile dropping.

"Oh, don't worry," he laughed a little, "It does."

After leaving her apartment, he ordered them an Uber and that impressed her. She looked proud of how far he had come, even though he done something as simple as pressing a few buttons on his cell phone. And in turn, he was proud of himself as well. He was finally beginning to fit in with the new world, all thanks to her.

During the ride, he watched her try to sneak glances out of the windows to figure out where they were going. Even though he now knew she didn't like surprises, it was almost comical to watch her try and ruin it for herself. He tried to distract her with conversation and he could tell she was trying to be present while desperately wanting to know where they were going.

Almost like it was instinctual, he reached for her hand. He held her hand before, held her close to him, but this was different. He noticed things that he hadn't before; like how soft her skin was, how bony her fingers were and how he could practically feel her pulse thrumming underneath. At his action, she stopped talking and then her gaze shifted over from where she was staring past him to meet his eyes. He gave her a reassuring smile and squeeze his hand lightly.

"Just enjoy it." he told her, lifting his chin up a bit. She gave him a small, timid smile and nodded, but didn't remove her hand from his.

The October night was crisp and cool as Steve helped her out of the car. She looked up at the restaurant they had been dropped off in front of, brow furrowing slightly at the name. He had hoped she had never been there before. The lights were on and there were a few people were inside, but not too many. It was a Monday night, so it wasn't a big date night anyway. Which was good for him. Mostly because he didn't want to risk being recognized. Tonight, he wanted it to be just the two of them, just two people on a date.

Her gaze shifted from the sign to him, eyes curious and slightly confused. She silently waited for him to explain. He looped her arm through his and gave her a grin as they walked toward the entrance,

"So, I know how much you love pizza." he started, getting her to laugh and then nod,

"It's a very important food group." she agreed, making him smile.

"I figured tonight, we could make our own pizza." he explained, quick to continue before she could object and remind him about the last time she was in the kitchen, "Don't worry, we aren't going anywhere near a kitchen." he gave her a knowing looking, "This place gives you your own pre-made dough at your table. You roll it out and shape it yourself, then you can put whatever toppings you want on it. They'll bake it for us." he finished with a slight grin. There was almost a stunned look on her face, she was looking at him with such awe in her eyes. Victory spread throughout his body, giving him a warm feeling; he had done well.

Once seated at their table, both of them received their dough balls and glasses of red wine. He feared that once they were sitting down, there would be a large awkward silence while they tried to figure out a conversation topic, but he was wrong. It was always so easy to talk to her, even small talk was bearable.

"You know what I always wanted to try?" she asked as she continued to play with her dough.

"What's that?" he asked back, raising his eyebrows up at her. She picked up her dough in both hands, flopping it from side to side.

"Tossing it up in the air like you see the professionals do." she glanced up at the ceiling.

"Oh, I didn't realize there were professional pizza makers." he joked, making her give him an unamused look. She looked at her dough and tossed it between her hands before heaving it up in the air.

Instead of doing what she wanted it to do, the dough came back down hard and fast. Her eyes went wide at the realization that she had screwed up. She let out a little yelp and her hands went to protect herself. The dough slammed down onto the table with a thump, almost knocking over their wine glasses. Steve couldn't help but laugh at what happened, prompting her to let out a little giggle as she glanced around to see if anyone was staring at them.

"Well, that did not work." she lowered her hands and made a face as she picked at her dough.

"A for effort though, Queenie." he complimented her, still laughing as he reached for his wine glass. She laughed at herself, the smile ever present on her face. He remembered what her brother said about how Q was smiling more. He could see what he meant by it; she used to give him that warm, professional smile that didn't seem like a smile at all. But now, sitting across from him, her smile was more genuine and brighter than before. He wanted to keep making her smile as long as she would let him.

While they were topping their pizzas, she encouraged him to ask her questions about herself. More date talk. A painful reminder that, in her eyes, this wasn't actually a real date. He thought the request was sort of silly; he knew a lot more about her than he ever thought he would. Since they started the questions game, she had become more open with him and didn't pass on questions he thought she would. He still didn't know major things, but he wasn't going to push her on that; she would tell him when she was ready.

Still, he did as she asked, wanting to make this night about her and show that he cared - and that he was truly interested in her. He tried to start off with basic questions, ones he already knew the answers too. She caught on fast and gave him a serious look,

"C'mon, Cap." she said instead of answering his question.

"What?" he raised his shoulders innocently, "I'm asking you questions about yourself." she rolled her eyes as she placed a topping on her pizza.

"You want to ask ones that will start a conversation." she explained, "Not yes or no questions." she pointed out. He took in a breath and nodded, taking her advice.

"Okay, alright." he said aloud as he thought for a moment, "What would you be doing if you weren't working for SHIELD?" he asked, making eye contact with her. She slumped her shoulders down and gave him a look, which told him that once again he had chosen wrong. Damnit. Surely, he had been wrong with her before, but this felt different - almost like it could be detrimental to his future with her.

"You know what I would be doing." she said tonelessly, like he had hit a nerve, "I would still be...you know." she sighed and waved her hand in the air. Suddenly, he understood. He always forgot that before SHIELD, she was in jail. It didn't make sense to him. Not only was she was a good person, a nice person, but she also didn't strike him as the type of person who would be in jail. So badly did he want to know what she had done to earn her jail sentence, but it wasn't the time nor place to ask.

"Oh, right." his gaze dropped down to his pizza where he was carefully laying out the pepperoni. There was that awkward silence he had feared. He cleared his throat and rephrased his question, "Okay, so what would you be doing if you weren't working for SHIELD or...you know." he finished, gesturing to her. She tilted her head to the side, thinking for a moment.

"I think I'd be a consumer behavior analyst for some company." she answered. Steve's brow furrowed, not understanding the job title. She grinned at him, "Basically they're people who are responsible for analyzing customers' behavioral patterns when they go shopping, to determine what they'll buy next." she explained lightly.

"So what you do now, but for a regular company." he said, making her laugh.

"Yeah, pretty much." she sighed, "That's super lame, isn't it?" she scrunched up her features a bit, almost like she was nervous about his reaction. He shook his head, wanting to assure her that it wasn't.

"No, no, it sounds interesting." he meant it. It sounded super fancy and he really wasn't expecting that sort of answer from her. He didn't know what he was expecting, honestly. She eyed him for a moment and then shrugged,

"What about you?" she asked, moving on, "What would you do if you weren't who you were?"

"Well, I'd probably be dead." he answered matter-of-factly. She rolled her eyes at him and he grinned, lightening the mood a little, "I don't know." he admitted, "The Army was always my goal." he looked over to her, seeing that she was watching him, "And now, being a soldier is just what I know." he shrugged; she knew this. She gave him an understanding smile and nodded,

"You could always open up your own pizza shop cause that is looking mighty tasty." she commented, leaning over to see his completed pizza. He laughed a little and glanced at hers, seeing that she had a lot of different toppings.

"Yours looks...well there's certainly a lot of toppings on there." he teased, making her laugh and toss a pepperoni slice at him. He batted it away as she heaved a sigh.

"I might've gotten carried away." she laughed lightly as the servers came back to take their pizzas to the ovens.

They ended up splitting their pizzas so that they each got half of the other's. Q's definitely had a lot of toppings on her half, but it was surprisingly good. She looked utterly delighted by the way it all turned out - almost like a kid in a candy shop.

Thankfully, she didn't push him on making more date talk. The conversation was back to being the natural one it was before. He enjoyed talking to her, telling her stories about back in the day (even though it meant he owed more money to the jar) and in return, hearing her tell stories about her past - mostly ones that involved the story of him too.

What a strange thing it was, to have been a part of someone's life before you even met them. His story clearly hadn't shaped her or affected her in any way, but she had learned almost everything about him long before he had learned a single thing about her. That had changed though - over the past six months, yes, but even just sitting across from each other; it gave both of them the opportunity to find out new things about each other. Things that weren't written in history books or that she hadn't told anyone before.

When they were finished with dinner, he paid - and surprisingly she didn't argue with him about it for once, then he took her hand and helped from her chair, leading her out of the restaurant. The two of them walked outside and it was much colder than it was earlier. He saw her shiver slightly and let go of her hand to shrug out of his jacket.

"So I was planning on ice cream for dessert," he started as he moved around to place his jacket around her shoulders, "But now I guess we should get hot chocolate." he joked lightly. There was a surprised look on her face at his gesture of giving her his jacket; she wasn't expecting it. He wondered if he had overstepped, but she didn't look angry by his gesture so he moved on.

"Q?" he asked, trying to get her attention. She blinked at him and then nodded, swiping away a hair that had come loose from her hairpin.

"It's never too cold for ice cream, Cap." she responded seriously, "But are you sure you want some? I know you and ice don't have a great relationship." she deadpanned and he grinned at her.

By the time they got their ice cream - Rocky Road in a cup with a cone on top of it for Q; Mint Chocolate Chip in a cup for Steve, it was later than he realized. He didn't really have any other plans for the night, but figured they could walk back to her apartment together. She had slipped his jacket on fully and even though they were the same height, since she had zero muscle mass or fat on her, it was still quite baggy on her. But he liked the way it looked. Back in his day, giving a girl your jacket was a way to show everyone who she was with. If he didn't remind himself that he was on a fake date, he could almost convince himself that it mean she was with him. Though she probably just thought he was being gentlemanly.

Slipping one of her hands into his jacket pocket, clearly a little cold from holding the cold ice cream cup. Her hand rummaged through his pocket for a moment and then she pulled out his notebook.

"You still carry this around?" she asked, sounding surprised. They didn't really talk about the things in his notebook anymore. Sometimes he asked her about something, but most times he just looked it up on the Internet. There was no set time that was set aside to talk through it.

"Of course. I still have a lot to catch up on." he pointed out as she flipped open the book to the page he had marked. She started reading the list aloud, a grin spreading as she got to a couple newer ones,

"Disco - you really don't know what disco is?" she asked him, laughing a little. He shrugged and she went back to the list, "Thai food - oh God, I can't believe we haven't had that yet. We'll have to have that for dinner this week, okay?" she raised her ice cream cup up at him and he nodded, scooping up some more ice cream, "Star Wars-slash-Trek - Dawson, I'm sure. Nirvana, parentheses band." she mimed the parentheses and grinned, "And Rocky, parentheses Rocky Two, question mark." her nose crinkled up at the last one, "Did Nat tell you that one?" she asked, looking over to him. He nodded at her with a slight raise of his eyebrows, "Of course." she laughed a little before shutting the book. She carefully slipped it back into the pocket and resumed eating her ice cream.

They walked in a comfortable silence for a bit, both focused on eating their ice creams. She was using her cone as a makeshift spoon to eat her ice cream, which made him smile a little. There were moments where she acted more like a child than an adult and sometimes it made him a little frustrated, but other times it just made him laugh. She spent so much time being professional and poised that it was like she was finally getting a chance to be herself. And it only ever happened around him, which made him feel special, like he knew a secret.

"I have to say, Cap, you did well." she complimented him, "Take Kate on a date like this and she'll be in love with you forever." she grinned at him. His heart sunk. Again, he was reminded that to her, this was a fake date. A way for him to get some practice in before the real thing. But this was the real thing for him...with her.

If anything, her comment made it clear that she didn't feel the same about him. She clearly saw him as just a friend, encouraging him to ask Kate out on a date even during their actual date. It was disappointing to find out, but understandable. He wasn't sure how to move on from there; she hadn't shot him down point blank, but he didn't know how much longer he could be just her friend. He would at least need to tell her at some point - they did talk about everything after all.

"It's been a long time since I went out a date, real or fake." she said, pulling him out of his thoughts. He dragged his spoon around his cup, scraping off the edges,

"What? Rumlow didn't take you out?" he asked shortly, not meaning for it to come out as harsh as it did. He paused for a moment, wondering if she would take it personally, but instead she just let out a bark of a laugh,

"God no." she chewed on her cone for a moment, "I actually don't think I ever ate a meal with him." she realized. For some reason, that made Steve feel better about himself and his chances with her. He was allowed to do something more than what Rumlow had been allowed to do. Yes, to Steve, sex was intimate, but dates were even more so. From what he saw by watching Bucky, it was a chance to really get to know the girl he was interested in, learn about her likes and dislikes so he could impress her even more so the next time. Rumlow never got the chance to know Q like he did.

"He missed out." he said, still not wanting to show his hand, "I've never seen anyone inhale a tray full of cheese fries like you." he teased, referencing back to when she was drunk during their bar tour. God, that felt like ages ago. She rolled her eyes at him and shoved into him, making him laugh instead of moving him.

"Shut up." she grumbled, going back to her ice cream.

When they got back to her apartment, he walked her up to the front steps. She shrugged out of his jacket and handed it back to him. Both of them paused in front of the double doors and she turned to look at him with a soft smile.

"Thank you for tonight, Cap." she said, with no hint of sarcasm, "I really did have a nice time."

"I had a nice time too, Q." he responded, knowing it meant much more to him than it did to her. Her soft smile turned into a grin and she rolled her lips in for a moment, rocking back on her heels and then looking back at him.

"I don't know if you remember this but," she started, making his heart slow with nerves; what was she going to say next, "back in Brooklyn, you said you don't want to betray Peggy by going out with someone else - falling in love with someone else." she paused, "And I just want you to know that you shouldn't feel like that, okay? You're a good man, Cap. You deserve someone who can give you your happy ending." she said softly, but firmly. He was stunned; that was not was he was expecting her to say. He didn't even register what happened next until the front door of her building shut. His skin tingled in the spot where she had leaned forward to give him a kiss on the cheek. He reached up to gently brush his fingers over it, almost like he was afraid it was going to electrocute him.

Suddenly, a wave of guilt washed over him as he processed what she had said to him. He hadn't even thought about Peggy for the entire night, until she brought her up. And then he began to feel guilty about what happened, about how he was feeling towards Q - another woman. He couldn't have feelings for her; that was unfair to Peggy. But he couldn't push away the feelings he had for Q; he hadn't had feelings like that for someone since Peggy. It was like his heart was being torn in two - one side guilty, the other side beating strong for Q. And he wasn't sure which side to listen to.

While he had an existential crisis outside her apartment building, Q was feeling mighty proud of herself. After six months of hard work, tonight finally proved that Cap was very much adjusted to this new modern world. Or at least he could handle it much better than when she first met him. He was much more relaxed and easy going around her, even managing to pull a few unexpected moves throughout the night.

And the fake date was perfect. As much as she hated surprises, she did have to admit that this was a good one. He had planned everything out and made sure that both of them had fun - not just one or the other. Plus, he was a complete gentleman, though she figured that was just his old manners from the forties coming out. Even if it was a fake date, she had never had someone treat her so sweetly on one before. It made her insides twist and butterflies started to flutter around in her stomach. Sharon was a lucky lady.

At the mere thought of Sharon going out with Cap, a rock came and crushed all the butterflies in her stomach. Q ignored it, figuring it was just the pizza and ice cream combo - too much dairy probably. She started to get ready for bed, thinking about the fake date the whole time.

As she settled into her bed, she rolled over onto her stomach and tried to fall asleep. Per usual, she would have to be up early the next day to meet Cap for his run. No matter how hard she squeezed her eyes shut, her mind wouldn't let her drift off into sleep. She just kept replaying the night over and over in her head.

Picturing the beautiful flowers and just as beautiful smile he gave her when he came to pick her up. Feeling the gentle way he held her hand in the Uber. Remembering how sweet he was to her in the simplest of ways: opening the door for her, pulling out her chair, giving her his coat when they were outside. Being surrounded by his jacket, which made her feel safe and warm and close to him. Closer than she ever had been to him. She could still smell traces of him in her hair: a citrusy scent mixed with the sweetness of a flower and hinted with the leather of the jacket, which gave it a small woodsy accent. Pleasant, but complicated - just like him.

Unexpectedly, the butterflies came back, feeling like they were moving from her stomach to her heart. They surrounded her heart, making it beat fast - so fast she thought it was going to burst out of her chest. Her eyes snapped open, staring into the dark abyss of her room. Oh fuck.

Did she have feelings for Cap?


	34. go about it clinically

Q pushed her reading glasses up to the top of her head. She rubbed her eyes tiredly as she stifled a yawn. Glancing at the clock in the kitchen, she saw that it was almost time to meet Cap. She had been up all night, dealing with her...feelings toward him.

It's not like she meant to stay up all night, but she couldn't sleep until she figured out what the fuck was going on with her emotions. So she sat on her living room floor, surrounded by multiple pages of a pro and con list. She went through every possible scenario, good and bad, that would come from her telling him about how much she liked him. And now it was near dawn and she still had no idea what she wanted to do.

Well, she knew what she needed to do. First, she needed to find her phone and text Cap that she would meet him at the Triskelion. There wasn't enough time for her to figure out a game plan and meet him before his run and be looking presentable on top of all that. Shuffling through the papers on the floor, she found her phone and quickly fired off a text to him explaining that she was going to meet him at the Triskelion. He texted back almost immediately, assuring her he was okay with it and that he would see her soon. He even added a smiley face emoji. Fuck. Even that was enough to cause butterflies in her stomach.

She stared at the emoji until it became blurry, then locked her phone and placed it on the coffee table next to her. Turning her attention back to the papers she was encircled by, she started to go through them. She needed to focus, come up with a plan of action. This was a delicate situation. She hadn't had feelings for someone since high school - though she wasn't even sure if those were feelings or just the side effects of whatever drug he had given her that had been pumping through her body at the time. But it felt the same.

The thought of Cap, the thought of him kissing her, holding her, even just having those blue eyes on her...was enough to send her nervous system into overdrive. How did this even happen? He wasn't even her type, or really anything like her previous sex-ationship. He was kind and smart, sweet as candy and really seemed to care about her. This wasn't just some schoolgirl crush that simply developed because he smiled at her. No, no, no this had been building up over months. It had taken her this long to realize it. And now she needed to figure out what to do about it.

Of course, she relied on her trusty, handy-dandy pro/con list. It started out small, just with the basic topic of the pros versus the cons in liking Cap as more than just a friend, then expanded into the thesis it was now. It detailed everything from liking him, to telling him, to what would happen after she told him. She thought of everything and anything that needed to be a part of her decision.

Pros included, but were not limited to: he was sweet to her, she was able to be herself around him and he was Captain fucking America.

Cons included, but were not limited to: he was too nice - she didn't deserve someone nice, he knew a lot about her - maybe too much, and he was Captain fucking America - her SHIELD assignment.

The third con was on the one she kept coming back to. The biggest issue with her having any sort of romantic feelings toward him was the fact that he was her assignment. There was no end date in sight for when her assignment would be over. She was his SHIELD analyst indefinitely or until Fury saw fit that she was no longer needed, but he had given no indication to when that would be. So until then, it was unprofessional of her to even think about Cap in any way that was more than a professional or friendly or respectful way.

Which was why her realization was weighing on her like a ton of bricks. Currently, she had no good options. If she told him, it could lead to awkward moments or him being offended by it. So offended by it that he could tell Fury, which would mean she would be taken off as his analyst and shoved back into her BatCave.

Maybe that was for the best. If he wasn't her assignment anymore, then there would be no conflict of interest and then she could be with him. But by that point she would've already admitted her feelings, he would have made it clear that he didn't feel the same and she still would be alone.

She was being overdramatic. She knew this. She had a tendency to do that when she was stressed. Still, she didn't know if she should tell him or not. Monday turned into Tuesday which turned into Wednesday and by Thursday morning, she was still trying to come up with a plan regarding if she should tell him and then when to tell him.

Though she had tried to sort out if he was feeling the same way about her. She was trying to go about it clinically. Treating him as a subject for work (even though he already was, but it was in a different way); to find his patterns and predict the outcome. She thought she had his patterns down - having spent so much time with him, but after their fake date, things had changed. For once in the six months she spent with him, she couldn't truly read him. Couldn't figure out if he was feeling the same or if she was just projecting onto him.

Each time she thought she figured it out, something happened to change her mind. A soft touch here, a warm smile there. Or a frustrated groan, then a pinched brow in annoyance. This had never happened to her before. Usually, she met a guy and they had sex pretty much immediately and it either became a sex thing - like with Rumlow or just stayed friends - no, not like Dawson. She had never dealt with this unsure feeling of if she was liked in the same way she liked the other person. It was driving her insane.

Her alarm went off and she stared at her ceiling for a long time as it beeped at her over and over. It bore into her brain, making her focus on nothing else except for the repetitive sound.

That was when she decided she couldn't tell him.

Not yet at least. Now that she made up her mind that she wasn't going to tell him, she needed to make a plan for when she was going to tell him. It had to be right; right time, right place, right way. The right time was when she was for certain that he felt the same about her, which would require a little more in depth recon. At least two more weeks of research and inputting data into her graphs. Then she could predict when would be the right time to tell him. The right place would probably be either his apartment or hers. And the right way...well, the right way would include a packet and a maybe even a powerpoint presentation. She already started on that part, outlining it in her head during her morning shower. There was no way this was going to get fucked up.

Until then, until the right moment arrived, she planned to act normal. She didn't need him suspecting anything. A while ago, he had joked that she was harder to read than a textbook in Sanskrit, which she took as a compliment. Even though they were friends now and she trusted him more than anyone, she still didn't need him being able to figure her out. She wanted to keep some things close to her chest; including the secret of her feelings toward him.

But it was hard for her not to read into the things he did or said. Like how he was waiting for her on Thursday morning, before the sun was even up, with a hot chocolate and breakfast sandwich in one hand, the morning newspaper in the other. The breakfast sandwich was from the deli, just how she liked it, and the hot chocolate was kid temperature so it didn't burn the roof of her mouth. He had already opened, then folded the newspaper so that it was on the puzzle section. That way she didn't have to flip through all the sad news to get to her puzzles. This happened often - he did this every morning she accompanied him on his run, but it was different. She realized that he had gotten up even earlier than he needed to in order to get these things for her so that she would be entertained and full while he ran around in circles. It was a nice gesture that most people wouldn't do, even for their friends.

And then there was the car ride to the Mall, how his arm would brush up against hers when he shifted in his seat, then their hands bumped into each other when they reached for their drinks at the same time, which reminded her of how he held her hand in the back of the car on their fake date. Or he would make eye contact with her at a red light that was so intense, but so soft at the same time - how was that possible? His gaze made her almost forget what she was talking about; she could get lost in those eyes, drown in them like they were the ocean and she didn't know how to swim. Whenever she held eye contact with people, they usually looked away first, that had even been the case with him. But over the past few days, she found herself looking away first; Jesus he knew how to hold her in his eyes in a way that made the butterflies go stir crazy.

And that smile, that fucking smile. He smiled at her like she was the only thing that made him happy enough to do so. Did he smile at anyone else like that? She didn't know. It was charming and beautiful and each time it appeared, she couldn't help but smile back; it was because of her. She made him smile. It felt like one of her greatest achievements.

And, unlike other men and boys she had been with, he actually listened to her. He made an effort to engage with her and talk with her about things she had mentioned prior. While it was her job to listen to him talk, he didn't seem to have any issue with listening to her talk either. And then he remembered things she had mentioned too - bringing them up in the car on the way to the Mall. Like how the local theatre was having a five dollar showing of her favorite movie or how he heard a song by the band she liked in a coffee shop or even bringing up a topic she had mentioned and wanting to explore it more because he had read about it on the internet the night before. She wasn't used to any of it; most guys only cared about themselves or they didn't even talk at all (Rumlow). Just another way he made those butterflies flutter.

So it was hard for her to not to read into these things as something more. As his way of telling her that he felt the same. She had to force herself to be professional. She couldn't react to his actions the way she wanted to. So she kept her mouth shut and her posture straight, never once flinching or wavering in her attempt to be as professional as possible. She feared that if she did react normally, it would all come crumbling down and he would be able to see right through her. Her graphs showed she couldn't let that happen yet.

When she sat down on the bench by the edge of the Mall, it was barely light out. He was across the way, getting ready to start his run. She watched him stretch; seeing how his shirt moved with him, exposing some skin as he reached to the side. His muscles were straining against the tight, thin material of his shirt and she couldn't take her eyes off of him. Though he wasn't her completely her usual type: tall, dark and handsome (another con). She definitely had a thing for muscular men; they were the ones who could really handle her with grace and ease, but also make her feel safe in their arms. Cap surely checked all of those boxes and then some.

Taking a sip of her hot chocolate, she tried to drown the butterflies that were waking up in her stomach at the glorious sight. Then he bent over to touch his toes, she got a perfect view of his ass in the running pants he had bought a while ago. Damn. Who knew Captain America had such a perfect ass? And even though it wasn't particularly hot or cold, she began to sweat through her blazer.

Shedding herself of the blazer and setting the hot chocolate to the side, Q tried to focus on her crossword puzzle. God forbid he catch her leering at him like some creep. That would completely blow her whole cover and make for an awkward conversation. All she had to do was just make it through the morning; after leaving the Triskelion, they would go their separate ways until the evening, which would give her time to add what happened during the day to her graphs. She doubted that anything would change drastically, but she wanted to have as much information in there as possible, just in case of outliers or if she misinterpreted anything. That way, when she did tell him, if it went wrong she would know that it wasn't because her data was off.

The sun slowly started to come up as he ran. When he could, he glanced over to where Q was sitting on her bench. Her head was bent over the morning newspaper, pen scratching into the crossword section. The dark waves of hair tumbled off her shoulder and created a curtain to block the side of her face. He watched as she tucked her hair behind her ear and got a better view of her profile. There was a sharpness to her features and he could see her lips moving as she talked herself through the puzzle. He could watch her do all sorts of puzzles for hours; it was like she was lost in her own little world.

But something was off with Q. There were moments over the past six months where he thought that there could be something wrong, but for once, he was sure of it. He didn't know what was wrong, per say, but he could tell there was something wrong. She barely talked to him that morning and was acting much more professional than usual.

A part of Steve worried that she had seen through his facade and figured out that he had feelings for her. If she had, then her reaction made it pretty clear that she did not feel the same. She was just waiting for the right time to let him down gently. A little voice in his head pointed out that maybe, she had figured it out and felt the same - she might just not know how to talk to him about it. But he quickly shut that down. There was no way she felt the same about him.

Sometimes he liked his run; it gave him time to think. Usually about the world changing and what not, but over the past few days he had been thinking of nothing else other than her. He kept trying to work through his feelings toward her and the guilt that was associated with it. Ever since she brought up Peggy, each time he thought about his feelings toward Q, it was tinged with a little bit of guilt. He didn't know what to do.

And now, coming to the conclusion that she had probably figured out that he had feelings for her, made him even more anxious. He tried to act normal, be her friend and do what he normally did with her. But what he really wanted to do was just avoid her until he sorted himself out and came to a decision. Thankfully, the run made that possible for a little while.

Every so often, there was someone out on his running trail. Since he had his super soldier speed and they kept a, well, normal running pace, Steve would always end up passing him or her. It wasn't even like he was going as fast as he could - his morning run was at what he considered a relaxed pace. Still, he made sure to call out to them before so they were aware that he was passing them. They usually wouldn't respond, which was normal, but the second time he passed the same guy, he acknowledged him with a quick,

"Uh-huh, on my left. Got it."

Usually, he only ran his circuit loop twice, but he didn't want to face her and the impending doom of being let down. It was going to be so embarrassing. So he started another loop, even slowing down a bit. The longer he could put off the conversation, the better.

On his way past her, he caught her eye. She gave him a small smile, brushing her hair away from her face and looking like a vision in the soft morning light. God, she was so beautiful. Of course he always knew she was pretty, but now, with the light and knowing how he was feeling - she was prettiest thing he had seen in a long, long time. He grinned back at her and continued on, knowing she was following him with her eyes until she couldn't anymore.

He came up on the black man from twice earlier again, but this time the man heard him. He glanced over his shoulder as Steve came running up from behind,

"Don't say it! Don't you say it!" he yelled out as a thinly veiled threat. He even tried to pick up his pace as if that would help him get further ahead. Steve ignored him, talking over him a bit,

"On your left." he indicated before he passed the man. The other runner let out a frustrated yell as they rounded a corner - him obviously paces behind. Thankfully, he was behind Steve so he couldn't see the amused smirk on Steve's face.

After he finished his third loop, he took a small cool down walk away from Q. Still not ready to go over to her and face the inevitable. A little ways away, he spotted the man from his run sitting against a tree. By the way his chest was heaving and falling, and the sweat on his crew neck sweatshirt, he had just finished. Steve walked over to him, hands on his hips, a dad joke (as she called all of his jokes and teasings) on the tip of his tongue,

"Need a medic?" he teased. The man let out a huff of a laugh, rubbing his hand over his chest,

"I need a new set of lungs. Dude, you just ran, like, thirteen miles in thirty minutes." he gestured toward the path they had both ran.

"I guess I got a late start." Steve joked, making the man chuckle.

"Really? You should be ashamed of yourself." he looked up at him from his position against the tree, "You should take another lap." he waved his hand toward the path and then let out a breath before looking up at Steve again, "Did you just take it? I assume you just took it." Whoever this guy was, Steve liked him.

Looking up from her completed crossword puzzle, Q did a quick scan of the area. She was trying to locate Cap after he had gone on another lap, which was odd to her. It made her nervous; did he figure out that she had feelings for him? She was probably being too professional and uptight and needed to relax. She couldn't have him figure it out, it wasn't part of the plan.

She spotted him a few yards away in front of the Capitol building...talking to a black man. Her brow furrowed in slight confusion. While he had been getting better with talking to people and interacting with the general public, she had yet to see him go up to someone on his own and begin the conversation.

A feeling of pride swelled in her chest and she watched the two men interact for a few minutes. Even when Cap turned away to continue his cool down walk, the other man got his attention again, prompting him to stay and continue the conversation. His stance was relaxed and he had an easy smile on his face, clearly joking with the man. God, she wished she could get this on camera.

Quickly, she went for her notepad; she might not have a camera, but she needed to jot down what was happening for future reference. She had figured they were past all the big steps, but this was by far the biggest. Maybe even the finish line. When she was assigned to him, she wasn't worried about getting him adjusted to the technological advances, but the social ones. The people were what had changed the most. You could say that he already had interacted with someone - Sharon, but that was more neighborly and bound to happen. Whoever the man was that he was talking with in front of the Capitol was a complete stranger. He had made the conscious decision and effort to strike up a conversation with the man without worrying about being recognized or what sort of effects it would have. And it looked like it was a great success. It almost made her feel like her job was done.

But she held back on her celebrating; they would still need to discuss it and she would have to make sure that she wasn't misreading the conversation. Even though she pretty much believed she wasn't. Both men looked equally relaxed as they talked: the other man's arms were crossed casually, but he talked with his hands. Cap kept his hands placed on his lower hips, almost where he usually gripped his belt - his Bucky pose as Q called it. Their weight was distributed more to one side and they maintained eye contact and half smiles. All in all, things were going well.

Her phone buzzed with an incoming text from Nat, warning her that she was picking up Cap for a mission. Knowing how fast Nat drove, she quickly gathered up her things and went over to where the two men were standing. She got there just as Nat's car came to a screeching stop in front of them.

"Hey there," she said, tilting her head a bit so that she could see the group, "I'm here to pick up a fossil, need to take it to the Smithsonian." her voice was light with her very clear tease. Q tried not to smile as Cap glanced at her before turning to walk to Nat's car,

"That's hilarious." he responded dryly as he opened the passenger door. She followed him, walking around the front to get to the driver's side. Crouching down by the window, she got Nat's attention after she shamelessly flirted with Cap's new friend.

"Is this something I need to be a part of?" she asked. Nat shook her head,

"Mission briefing isn't till we're up in the air. I'll have Dawson update you as soon as we know." she assured her. Q gave her a small smile,

"Thanks, Nat." her eyes glanced over to meet Cap's and she raised her eyebrows slightly, "Don't do anything crazy."

"I appreciate you not saying stupid." he grinned at her, making her heart flutter. She ducked her head down to hide her blush as she stood up and stepped away from the car.

The car sped off, leaving Q standing across from Cap's new friend. She gave him a warm, professional smile as he straightened up. Stepping back to the sidewalk, she held out her hand to introduce herself,

"Q Proctor." he took her hand in his, shaking it firmly,

"Sam Wilson." he responded easily, with an equally easy smile. She nodded at him as their hands dropped, "Didn't realize he had so many friends." he jerked his head toward where the car had just been, obviously referring to Cap.

"Well, welcome to the club." she joked, "It's a small group, but we are in need of a Treasurer." she continued. He grinned at her.

"What? Vice President is already taken?" he teased, running with her joke.

"Of course." she made her eyes a little wide and dropped her chin to her chest. She rolled her lips in and subtly pointed to herself, making him laugh again.

"Alright, okay." he nodded at her, "Count me in then." she laughed a little and then noticed the emblem on his crewneck sweatshirt - he was a military man. Of course that's why he and Cap instantly clicked.

"Air National Guard, huh?" she commented, motioning to his sweatshirt. He looked down at himself and nodded, rocking back on his heels a bit.

"I was, yeah. Now I work down at the VA." he tilted his head to the side a bit. She nodded, giving him another warm smile.

"That's great. Uh, thank you for your service." she added kind of lamely. She knew she was supposed to thank military people for their sacrifice, but it always felt a little weird to actually do.

"No problem." he grinned at her again.

"I should get going." she said, trying to end the interaction. Not that she didn't like the guy; she did, but she still had to get some stuff done before Cap was back from his mission. Sam nodded at her,

"It was nice meeting you, Q." he gave her another smile. "Let me know when the club meeting is. I'll make sure to bring a snack or two." she laughed a little,

"Will do, Sam." she bid him goodbye before walking past him and over to where she parked her car.

For someone who just met and had a full conversation with Captain America, Sam was seemingly casual. He didn't even bat an eye when Nat pulled up or when Q appeared either. In fact, he then went on to have a conversation with her even after Cap and Nat left. He was friendly and very easy going, not once trying to dig for more information or seeming to have any ulterior motive. He intrigued her and she wanted to learn more about him.

Instead of going back to her apartment, she went to the Triskelion instead. The SHIELD internal database had information on everyone and anyone who lived...well anywhere. She had a first name, last name and a general location to help her narrow down her search results. The background in military didn't hurt her results either.

She spent the rest of her day down in her office - someplace she hadn't been in a while. Her search didn't take her long and she quickly found everything she could possibly want to know about Sam Wilson. It wasn't like she was going to do anything with the information, but she just wanted to make sure that Cap's new friend wasn't some psychopath. And Sam Wilson was far from it.

His Air National Guard records showed that he was part of the EXO-7 Falcon team. Having never heard of it before, she searched the term on a different screen to learn that the The EXO-7 Falcon was an experimental, military-designed winged harness created for the Air National Guard and used by paratroopers during highly sensitive missions. Sam was assigned to the 58th Rescue Squadron, where he was a test pilot for the EXO-7 Falcon along with his wingman, Riley Meadows. She tried to find more on his wingman, but found that he had killed in action after being hit by an RPG. It was after Riley's death that Sam left the military to instead serve those in the Veterans' Association.

Seemed like he and Cap had more than just the military background in common. A friend like Sam would be good for him. He could actually talk about his experiences and have someone who related to him - something that Q couldn't do. Another one for the con side on her pro/con list of reasons in trying to figure out if she should tell him about her feelings.

The con side of her list was getting significantly longer than her pros. As much as she liked him, it was too risky to tell him. She would have to wait until something came along to shift her graphs dramatically into a position where she could be certain he liked her in the same way.


	35. move forward

"...You should be proud of yourself, Peggy." he finished his thought, eyes traveling over the pictures that were set up on her nightstand. They documented her life after him: from marriage, to children to grandchildren and everything in between. She looked happy and beautiful and full of love.

During his previous visits, he never spent time looking at the photos; they made a tinge of regret shoot through his heart. If he hadn't crashed that plane...maybe he would've been in those pictures too. Now, there was no regret, but instead there was almost jealousy. He wasn't sure if he would ever have picture frames filled with photos of his family or ones involving such joy as hers were.

"I have lived a life." Peggy hummed in agreement. His eyes shifted from the photos to where she was propped up against her pillows. Although she had aged since the photos were taken, she looked just as beautiful as ever. Her eyes were sharp and she was just as much herself than other days he had seen her. She moved her head so that she could meet his eye, "My only regret is that you didn't get to live yours." she gave him a sad smile. He tried to laugh, letting his head roll back as he looked away from her.

"I'm living my life right now, Peg." she tsked at his comment, not believing him.

"This is not the life you should be living." she said seriously, "Visiting an old woman in a nursing home or spending your days in the past while at a museum…" she trailed off as he looked back at her, "You need to find someone." she said matter of factly. He raised his eyebrows at her, "Someone you can experience everything you've missed out on with." she looked back at her picture frames on her nightstand, "So you can have just as many pictures." her gaze returned to him. He wondered if she knew about his feelings toward Q or if she was just speaking from the heart.

"You'd be okay with that?" he asked, curious to see her reaction. They had never spoken about his future before - the one without her. He didn't want to upset her. Instead, she laughed at him, almost like his question was ridiculous.

"Steve, our time...our chance has passed." she said, reaching for his hand, "And while I will be forever grateful of what we had and will cherish it just as long, it's time you move forward." she said encouragingly. A small weight lifted off his shoulders. The guilt that came every time he thought about Q in a romantic fashion disappeared. Peggy was giving him her permission - no, her blessing, for him to move forward and saying it was okay for him to have feelings for someone else. He couldn't be more grateful.

Giving her a small smile, he squeezed her hand firmly before letting go and sitting back in his seat. His eyes fell from Peggy's, looking at where his thumb was rubbing against his palm. The thought of Q reminded him of the op he had just finished; Q linked back to SHIELD and his op was a SHIELD op. The so called rescue mission on the Lemurian Star. Which then revealed that it was more than just a rescue mission, leading him to find out some unsavory details about Nat and the organization he was working for. Including learning about Project Insight.

"What is it?" she asked. He let out a heavy sigh at her question. It was a loaded one, that was for sure. He met her eyes again, seeing that she was looking at him both curiously and worriedly.

"For as long as I can remember, I just wanted to do what was right." he paused, "I guess I'm not quite sure what that is anymore." he admitted, knowing it related to more than one thing. Both what he found at SHIELD - causing him to reconsider everything he had done leading up to it, and his relationship with Q - how he had denied himself the chance to pursue one with her because of his self-imposed guilt. He hadn't gone about either of the situations in the right way, but he was talking more about the SHIELD part of it,

"And I thought I could throw myself back in and follow orders. Serve." he continued before pausing. He took in a breath and gave her a small smile, "It's just not the same." Peggy laughed, almost rolling her eyes at him,

"You're always so dramatic." he let out a slight huff of a laugh at that, shaking his head at her comment, "Look, you saved the world. We rather...mucked it up." she said, accent rather pronounced as her mouth twisted to the side and she let out a sigh.

"You didn't." he leaned forward a bit and shook his head, "Knowing that you helped found SHIELD is half the reason I stay." The other half was because of Q, but he kept that to himself. Again, she reached for his hand,

"The world has changed, and none of us can go back." she said matter-of-factly, "All we can do is our best. And sometimes the best that we can do is to start over-" A coughing fit interrupted her, taking over her entire body. She turned to the side, closing her eyes as she tried to stifle her coughs. Steve got out of his chair, turning around to grab the pitcher of water. He poured her a glass and then turned back to give it to her. But before she took the water, her eyes darted down at the glass, then back up to his face.

A look of wonder came over her features, almost like she couldn't believe he was sitting right in front of her,

"Steve." she breathed out, amazed by the sight.

"Yeah?" he kept his voice soft. Her eyes began to water and she let out a shaky gasp.

"You're alive." she managed out. He took in a couple deep breaths, trying not to get emotional over what was happening. She had forgotten that he was alive, that he had been talking to her for the past hour. He had dealt with this plenty of times, because of her Alzheimer's, but each time she became senile, felt like a small stab to the heart, "You came back." she breathed out, sounding both happy and sad at the same time.

"Yeah, Peggy…" he forced an easy smile on his face, swallowing back the emotions that were bubbling up. Her face contorted into one of sadness and pity,

"It's been so long." she gasped, trying not to cry. Hell, even Steve was trying not to cry. He hated when this happened. It made everything so much harder, "So long." she stressed, still on the verge of tears. He reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly.

"Well, I couldn't leave my best girl." he assured her, "Not when she owes me a dance." he gave her a charming smile, trying to lighten the mood. She let out a small laugh, not noticing how his smile faltered a bit.

His visit with Peggy ended shortly after her memory lapse. It was pointless to try and continue the conversation they had been having before the reset button in her brain had been triggered. Although he knew not to take it personally, he couldn't help but feel a bit shaken by it. Mostly because it reminded him of how much had changed since he was defrosted. He wished he had been able to find Peggy a bit sooner; he could've had more time before her Alzheimer's became as bad as it was.

As he was leaving Sunrise, he saw Q getting out of her car. She didn't notice him, ducking back into her car to grab her messenger bag, but at the sight of her, he was reminded of what Peggy said while she was alert. How he should find someone to experience all the things he missed out on - and his first thought was: maybe that could be Q.

"I thought I might find you here." she greeted him. He gave her a guilty smile, slipping his hands into his jacket pockets, "You've been avoiding me." she said, one step away from shaking her finger at him. She raised her eyebrows up at him as she stepped around the front of her car. What she had said was true; he had been ignoring her. Intentionally or not, he wasn't sure anymore.

A full twenty-four hours had passed since he had seen her last. In the morning, on his run, he had made it a point to avoid her. Even going out of his way to talk to Sam. All so he didn't have to talk about his feelings toward Q with her. Though the panic of talking to her about his feelings had fell to the wayside when he was called into SHIELD for a mission.

During the Lemurian Star op, he had found out that Nat had been given a completely different mission. While he was instructed to free hostages and take down the pirates who took over the ship - she was tasked with saving the SHIELD intel. He had no clue that she had a side mission as well. It completely jeopardized the whole op.

When they got back to the Triskelion, he avoided Q and went straight to Fury's office. He wanted answers and knew that she wasn't going to be able to give them to him. So he went above her head. Confronting Fury led him to learning about Project Insight, which was something else he wasn't expecting. The day was starting to become full of surprises.

According to Fury, Project Insight consisted of three next-generation helicarriers that were synced to a network of targeting satellites. Those targeting satellites were to be launched from the Lemurian Star. Once they were in the air, the helicarriers never needed to come down - thanks to Stark's engines. The helicarries were fitted with new long-range precision guns that could eliminate a thousand hostiles a minute. Plus, they were able to read a terrorist's DNA before he could do anything. They were going to neutralize a lot of threats before they even happen.

While Fury explained to him what the project was, Steve's insides twisted. To him, Project Insight was SHIELD's way of holding a gun to everyone on Earth and calling it protection. He had fought so long and hard, done terrible things and sacrificed everything so people could be free. That wasn't what Project Insight was. Project Insight was practically imprisonment.

And he wasn't sure how much Q knew about it. Or even how to broach the subject with her. So he avoided her. Left the Triskelion before she could find him and went to the Smithsonian. He spent the rest of the morning walking around his exhibit. It didn't send him into the same panic as it had the first time he went. Nor did he feel as much guilt as he had before. Instead, it was more of a longing feeling. How badly he wished he was working with his Howling Commandos again - he trusted them implicitly. They would never pull a stunt like Nat had on the Lemurian Star without telling him first. Or how much he wished that he could see Bucky again - he would be sure to get a kick out of everything that was happening.

The media room with Peggy's interview sent him to visit her at Sunrise. He was reminded that he didn't know how much time the two of them would have left together so he would have to try to spend as much time as he could with her. At some point, he wouldn't have anyone from his past anymore. He'd be back where he was after the battle in New York. Alone. But he would be better this time. And maybe he wouldn't be alone either - not in the literal sense. Maybe he would still have Q by his side. He hoped she would.

Returning back to DC, talking with Peggy, seeing Q again...all of it had brought how he felt about her to the forefront of his mind. He had calmed down during the mission, having something else to focus on - even with Nat's constant nagging about him asking someone out on a date. She could be just as bad as Q sometimes. But he wasn't quite as wired up as he was during his run when he thought she had figured out that he had feelings for her and didn't feel the same way. If anything, he had been able to think through the past six months and was pretty sure that she had feelings for him as well.

In his head, all signs were pointing to yes. Yes, she did feel the same about him. There were plenty of examples to back up his case too. From the kissing practice at the bar after the baseball game to the "fake" date they went on together a few days prior. While he wasn't that well versed in modern behaviors, he was sure people didn't just kiss each other unless they had feelings.

Kissing practice and fake dates aside, he had other reasons as to why he thought she had similar feelings toward him. She always made sure to take care of him first, surprised him constantly with things he enjoyed (even though she hated surprises herself), and listened to him rant and rave about anything and everything. She could play it off as part of her job, but that line he had so clearly seen in the beginning - separating her professional life from her personal life, had disappeared almost entirely. The two of them hung out even when there was nothing he needed to talk about, spent nights together eating pizza and watching movies he had missed and took walks together with no end destination in mind (his way of making her exercise, if he was being honest). There was no hesitation when it came to physical touches or direct eye contact. They shared smiles and inside jokes and to him, it had become much more than just a friendship.

"So you made a new friend yesterday…" Q changed the subject with a prompt and a knowing look at him. He rolled his eyes and let out a small scoff. Of course she had seen his conversation with Sam. She leaned against her car, crossing her arms over her chest and waited for him to fill in the blanks.

"Sam Wilson." he started with a slight nod, "Works down at the VA." he tilted his head to the side and gave her a small smile. A wicked grin came over her face and he knew that she was coming up with a plan - or already had and he had fallen right into her trap. He let out a sigh, preparing himself for what she was about to say,

"Looks like you have a reason to go there now." she pointed out. He gave her a look, dropping his chin to his chest. She had tried to get him to go to a Veterans' Association meeting before. Said it would be good for him to talk with people who had similar war experiences.

At the time, he wasn't sure he was in the right place to attend one. He didn't want all the focus to be on him or take away their time to talk about their problems. He had someone to talk to, someone whose sole job was to listen to him. But maybe it would be good to talk to others who had experience fighting in wars. Or at least see what it was all about and then make a decision.

Which was how they ended up at the Veterans' Association later that afternoon. With the insistence and support of Q, it was decided that it would be a good idea to at least go see what was involved with the meetings. He could just sit in the back and not disturb anyone, then slip out before the meeting was over.

The Veterans' Association they went to was the same one he had circled around before. Except this time, there was no circling around the block a bunch of times. This time, the two of them went right inside and he tried to calm his nerves of being a room full of other veterans. While they had similar experiences, everyone dealt with them differently. And he wasn't sure how they were going to react to him being there.

The woman at the front desk was very helpful in pointing out where Sam was holding his meeting. Q followed behind Steve as they made their way to the room, but it was clear that the meeting was wrapping up. Not wanting to interrupt, he leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms over his chest. Q stood on the opposite side, peering in and listening to what Sam was saying to the group.

Even though it was only the last few minutes of the meeting, he could tell that Sam was very good at what he did. The topic was a serious one - one that he had dealt with himself. Imagining things that weren't there or thinking things were something else entirely, all because of what he went through during the war. Sam's message rang true: it was all about how the person carried it. Steve liked to believe that he was better at carrying and dealing with what happened to him than before. He had his moments, just like anyone else, but the progress he had made since meeting Q six months ago...well it seemed he had achieved her simple goal of it being "good progress." He glanced over to her, only to make eye contact with her instead of her profile. She was observing his reaction to the meeting, instead of paying attention the meeting itself. She gave him a small smile and adjusted herself against the doorframe before her eyes darted back to the room.

In that moment, he realized that he was better because of her. Sure, his personal choices and decisions on how to live his life were a main part of it, but so was she. He was able to feel more like himself, rather than the soldier or the American icon...because of her. Because of her ability to make him feel safe and supported, and heard and believed. At the realization, those feelings inside of him stirred again: mixing with admiration and gratefulness.

With each day that had passed since he figured out his true feelings for her, those feelings became stronger and stronger, encompassing more positive feelings toward her than he could've ever imagined he'd have for her. It helped him become aware of so many things that he had been blind to before or even knew about but hadn't paid attention to. From the simple things like how expressive her face really was to the bigger things like how much she had helped him be more comfortable as Steve Rogers in this new time. He was able to finally, truly, be himself around her without any fear or doubt of it getting back to Fury or anyone else within SHIELD.

While he was proud of himself for becoming as well-adjusted as he could be in a short six months, a large part of him worried for the day that she was no longer assigned to watch and analyze him. Would they still be friends? Would they even interact at all? Or would he just be another file folder in one of her cabinets in her office? He didn't want to think about it.

After the Veterans' Association meeting finished, he lingered and waited for the people to wander off. He wanted to talk to Sam, tell him how impressed he was with how he handled the meeting. From what he saw and heard, it was clear that they dealt with some serious issues - some wouldn't be able to interact with the attendees in the same way Sam had.

"Look who it is: the running man." he greeted Steve after saying goodbye to one of the women who talked during the meeting. He went over to the small table to organize some brochures and Steve settled against the corner of the wall across from him,

"Caught the last few minutes. It's pretty intense." he commented, slipping his hands into his jeans' pockets.

"Yeah, brother, we all got the same problems." Sam nodded, "Guilt, regret…" he trailed off, looking to the side. Steve suddenly knew what Q meant when she said that sometimes it looked like he was looking into the past.

"You lose someone?" he asked quietly, not knowing if how he would react. Sam took in a breath and nodded,

"My wingman, Riley." he paused for a moment before continuing, "Flying a night mission. Standard PJ rescue op. Nothing we hadn't done a thousand times before." another pause, Steve braced himself for the sad ending, "Until an RPG knocked Riley's dumbass out of the sky." he shook his head and pulled down the corners of his mouth, "Nothing I could do. It's like I was up there just to watch." Steve hung his head before looking back at Sam.

"I'm sorry." he apologized. He knew what it was like to lose someone in a war. To not be able to do anything but watch as someone you loved fell to their death. Although years had passed and he had talked about with Q a handful of times, the wound still felt fresh whenever he thought about what happened to Bucky on the train.

"After that, I had a really hard time finding a reason for being over there, you know?" he admitted. Steve nodded. He could relate to everything Sam had said; after Bucky's death, he had quite a hard time as well. It wasn't until Peggy talked some sense into him that he was able to continue on.

"But you're happy now, back in the world?" Steve asked, hoping for some sort of happy ending or maybe even a hint of what he could look forward to at some point. It was almost like the two had lived almost the same lives, but at different times. Each fighting a war, each losing their partner and friend, each having trouble getting back into the war mindset, each having trouble getting out of the war mindset. If Sam found his happy ending then maybe he could too. Sam let out a little laugh and looked around himself,

"The number of people giving me orders is down to...about zero. So, hell yeah." he grinned at him, "Are you thinking about getting out?" he asked, arms crossed over his chest.

"No." Steve answered, bouncing on one foot as he tilted his head and backtracked, "I don't know." he paused and raised his shoulders up, "To be honest, I don't know what I would do with myself if I did." he admitted with a slight sigh. Sam's eyebrows raised and he rolled back on his heels,

"Ultimate fighting?" he suggested, "Just a great idea off the top of my head." Steve laughed and glanced off to the side as Sam motioned to him, "Seriously, you could do whatever you want to do." he paused before looking at him seriously, "What makes you happy?" Steve looked past Sam to where Q was standing across the hall, by the wall a little ways away. She was trying to appear like she wasn't watching the two of them even though she was. He grinned to himself before looking back at Sam,

"I don't know." he sighed out. But he did know. He knew that it wasn't a what but a who. Never before had he had such an urge to tell her how he felt. Sam nodded to himself before sticking his hand out,

"Well, if you ever want to come to another meeting, we'd be happy to have you." he offered. Steve took his hand, shaking it firmly.

"Thank you, Sam." he said gratefully. He wasn't sure if he would ever be able to come to one of those meetings, but it was nice to have the option to.

Steve walked over to where Q was, noticing how her eyes flicked from him to where Sam was shuffling the brochures. Her eyes returned back to him and she pushed off the wall with a smile. She shoved her notepad into her bag - of course she had been writing down what was happening, and stepped up to him.

"Think you'll come back?" she asked as they turned to walk back the way they came. She fell into step next to him, meeting his eye.

"I don't know." he answered truthfully with a slight shrug, "I told you before, I already have someone to talk to." he gave her a half smile. She rolled her eyes and tried not to smile.

"At least you made a new friend." she sounded like she was almost congratulating him. He let out a little laugh as she glanced over her shoulder for a moment before looking back at him, "Did you two talk about anything interesting?" she asked, a curious look on her face. He stared at her for a moment, trying decide if right then and there was the right time to tell her or not. She tilted her head to the side and raised her eyebrows, still waiting for an answer from him.

"Uh, no...no." he took in a breath and shook his head. He turned his head so he was looking down the hall, "Just about the meeting."

"Well, I'm sure if you hang out more, you'll probably discover you have a lot in common with him." she assured him with a pat on his arm.

The touch sent a zing of electricity up his arm, straight to his heart and it clenched around it - squeezing it tightly for a moment. She had touched him before, countless times, but ever since he had figured out that he had feelings for her, each touch was new and so much more than just a friendly pat on the arm or a reassuring hand squeeze.

He wasn't sure how much longer he could last with being just friends with her. He was trying to be respectful, but he wanted to be more, have more. He wanted to kiss her for real, take her out on real dates, be more than just friends. He needed to tell her, at least to get it off his chest. He couldn't be afraid of her reaction or use Peggy as an excuse anymore; she had given him her blessing. He was allowed to move on, damnit.

Deciding to wait to tell her until after they finished dinner, Steve spent the entire meal gathering up his courage. He hadn't told a woman he had feelings for her in a very long time. Since pre-serum time. The last time he told someone, was also the same time he realized no woman would ever want to be with someone like him - not because of his personality, but because of his body. While he wasn't quite fine with it, he never let it dampen his attitude toward women or treated them any differently because of it. There was going to be a girl who liked him for his personality and didn't care about his body. Peggy was like that and he certainly hoped that Q was the same. He had a feeling she was.

"Can I tell you something?" he asked, watching as she scooped up a spoonful of the mango sticky fried rice (she was adamant that rice wasn't a vegetable when in dessert form) she had ordered after their meal. He had a few bites and enjoyed the flavor, but his nerves stopped him from eating any more of it. He had been waiting for this moment all evening.

"You can tell me anything, Cap, you know that." she responded easily after swallowing her bite. She went for another spoonful, not noticing how he took in a breath and readied himself.

"Earlier today, at the VA, I was talking with Sam and he asked what made me happy." he started as she slowly pulled the spoon out of her mouth, "And I ended up saying that I didn't know, but...I do know." he leaned forward a bit, keeping his eyes on hers the whole time. His eyebrows twitched up ever so slightly and he couldn't help the small, half smile on his face. Her eyes darted down, noticing his body language before looking back at him. She pulled the spoon was a little bit away from her face, off to the side but still in the air. He swallowed back the lump in his throat and rubbed his hands together under the table,

"You make me happy, Q." he admitted, knowing he sounded nervous, but trying to be serious too. He didn't want her to take it as a joke. She took in a sharp breath through her nose and her eyes widened a bit. She opened her mouth, then closed it and swallowed.

"What are you saying?" she managed to ask, even though she wasn't sure she was going to be able to hear his answer since the sound of her heartbeat was thunderous in her ears.

"I have feelings for you, Q." he answered her seriously. Oh no, oh fuck. Oh no, this couldn't be happening right now. No, no, no, no. This was not part of the plan. This was not how it was supposed to go down. Her graphs, her charts, everything projected at least two more weeks. She had two more weeks to prepare for how she was going to tell him about her feelings. Her packet! Her packet was only in the draft stage - oh God. This couldn't be happening.

"Q?" she heard him ask, but it sounded like he was underwater. She registered the concerned look on his face, but didn't respond; her mind was going into overdrive trying to find the appropriate way to react.

Suddenly, she got up from the table, spoon clattering against the bowl as she dropped it to grab her things. Without another word, she moved out into the main area of the Thai restaurant and started for the exit - curse them for sitting in the back corner.

Steve watched her go, a bit stunned by her reaction; out of everything, he certainly wasn't expecting that to happen. He went for his wallet and pulled out what he thought was enough to cover the bill and then added more because he knew everything was more expensive these days. Then he grabbed his jacket from the chair and went after her.

The door swung open into the night as Q shoved up against it and she started walking to where she parked her car. She had to get out of there, had to get back to her apartment and figure out her next steps. This was not the plan. He wasn't supposed to admit his feelings for her. Oh shit, he had feelings for her too. What was she supposed to do now? Well, they would have to talk about - she didn't have her talking points down. What if she said the wrong thing? Oh God, that would fuck it up even more.

"Q!" she heard Cap call out after her. She stopped walking and then cringed at herself. Now he knew she heard him. Fuck.

"I don't have feelings for you." she blurted out as she turned around to face him. Double fuck. That was literally the worst thing she could've said and she just…went ahead and said it. He stopped a few paces away from her, then shook his head and started walking again, stopping when he was right in front of her,

"Bullshit." he shot back. She pulled her chin to her chest, eyebrows raising in surprise. She certainly wasn't expecting that sort of response.

"Wha...what?" she managed out, overly flustered at what was happening. He slipped his hands into his pockets and shook his head again,

"You have feelings for me, Queenie." he said matter-of-factly, "You don't kiss someone multiple times if you don't have feelings for them." she made a face and shrugged,

"Kissing doesn't mean anything these days." she lied, knowing that kissing was her favorite thing to do. But she had decided to go with her earlier statement. It was her best option at the moment. She needed to get home and readjust her graphs and charts and come up with a better plan. "You're just reading too much into it, Cap." he laughed, tilting his head up to the sky.

It was so obvious to Steve that she was lying to him. For the second time since he met her, he was confident he knew what was going on inside her head. He was getting better at reading her. She was obviously flustered by what he said, causing her to react in such a way. And now she was lying straight through her teeth.

"What about the date?" he asked, tossing another example at her. A bubble of nervous laughter burst through her lips as she rolled forward on her toes.

"What date?!" she cried out, arms crossing over her chest. He gave her a look; she knew what he was talking about. She scoffed, looking off to the side and shaking her head, "Tha - that was just - that wasn't a date! It was practice!" she looked back at him and threw her hand out toward him, "It was practice so you could be confident when you asked Kate out!" she finally found her words and looked rather proud of herself, even though he could tell under the streetlights that her cheeks were flushed red.

"Right, yeah." he rolled his eyes at her, "So all this time, everything you've done with me, was just so I could ask Kate out?"

"Yes!" she yelled out, eyes going wide. She laughed lightly, "Finally, you get it." she said normally. He shook his head at her, hands going to his hips as he looked down at the sidewalk for a moment.

"I don't believe that, Q." he said, making eye contact with her, "I know you feel the same way about me as I do about you." she let out a deep sigh.

"This is unprofessional." she said, placing her hand to her forehead and shaking her head a bit.

"Screw professionalism." he shot back, feeling cocky. He knew, deep down he knew she felt the same way about him but was just trying to deflect and distract. Something he had perfected over the years. She continued to shake her head at him, pulling down the corners of her mouth. She was digging herself into a hole. She knew this, but this was not how it was supposed to go.

"I don't have feelings for you, Cap." she repeated herself, her lie, "I don't feel the same way that you do about me." she straightened up, "And I would appreciate it if you stopped trying to prove that I do." They stared at each other for a long moment and she had to force herself not to falter.

She was holding her stance on the matter and he couldn't help but feel a slight sting in his chest. While he was confident that she certainly had feelings for him, he still felt like he was being rejected and it hurt just as much as it did the first time in the thirties. He let out a deep sigh and relaxed into his stance,

"Fine. Whatever you say, Q." he gave in, telling her what she wanted to hear, "I'll see you tomorrow." he raised his eyebrows up at her before walking past her. Thankfully, they had driven separately so he was able to leave without another word.

As he rode home, the motorcycle was loud enough to drown out his thoughts so he didn't linger on what just happened outside the resturant. The stinging pain was fresh and deep, but he wasn't about to retaliate in any way. While he was disappointed in her and in the way it played out (and also maybe a little annoyed), he wasn't going to force her to admit her feelings for him, or try to force her to have them.

He climbed up the stairs to his apartment, dipping his hand into his jacket pocket to grab his keys. Kate was coming out of her apartment when he got to the top of the steps, on the phone and with a laundry basket tucked under her arm. He waved to her and she gave him a friendly smile,

"I got to go though… Okay…Bye." she ended the call and waved her phone at him, "My aunt, she's kind of an insomniac." she joked, dropping the phone into the laundry basket. He gave her a smile, fiddling with his keys as he did. Q's words echoed in the back of his head, telling him that they had only went on the date so that he would be more confident about asking Kate out. And Kate was always nice to him - Q always talked about how they obviously liked each other. He figured if Q didn't like him in that way, maybe he could try with Kate and see if maybe there was something there. Maybe she would want him in the way that Q didn't.

"Hey, if you want...if you want, you're welcome to use my machine." he offered, gesturing to her, "Might be cheaper than the one in the basement." she turned to him, letting her weight fall on to one foot as she tilted her head at him,

"Yeah? What's it cost?" she asked with a slight smile.

"A cup of coffee?" he asked back, raising his eyebrows up and feeling hopeful. Kate paused, that friendly smile ever present on her face as she tilted her head down to look into her laundry basket,

"Thank you, but," she looked back at him and rolled her lips in. The same stinging sensation went through him again. He was being rejected again. Was he really that bad at reading women?, "I already have a load in downstairs, and you really don't want my scrubs in your machine." Kate continued with a shake of her head, "I just finished a rotation in the infectious disease ward, so…" she trailed off with a grimace. He raised his hands up and let out a little laugh,

"Well, I'll keep my distance." he assured her.

"Hopefully, not too far." she quipped back with a grin. He paused, hands lowering ever so slightly. Perhaps not. He might have just had bad timing. That seemed to be a trending theme that night.

Nodding, he gave her a smile and she turned to walk down to the laundry room only to stop and look back, "And I think you left your stereo on." she mentioned. He raised his eyebrows at her comment, but tried not to look too alarmed.

"Right. Thank you." she gave him another smile and turned for the stairs. Steve turned around to face his door, leaning closer to hear that a song was playing out of the speakers of the record player.

It was an old tune, one that he and Q had listened to a few nights ago. She spun around in slow, small circles with a third glass of wine in her hand and socks on her feet while he finished up the puzzle they had been working on together. There had a been a moment where he was watching her twirl and he suddenly wanted to act on what the lyrics were saying: Kiss me once, then kiss me twice, then kiss me once again…

Shaking himself out of the memory, he turned to the matter at hand. Someone was in his apartment. He went through his mental list of who had a key. Really it was just Q and, while he was used to coming home and finding her in his apartment, she always sent a text warning him about her presence before he walked in.

He moved for the window at the end of the hall, knowing that he could easily scale the building around to get to the fire escape. He climbed onto the landing and carefully opened the window to the kitchen. Stealthily moving through the dark apartment, he picked up his shield in the hallway before turning the corner to find Fury lounging on Q's chair next to the record player in the living room. While it wasn't an intruder, the sight of Fury in his apartment that late at night was probably not a good thing.

"I don't remember giving you a key." Steve sighed out, a little miffed about who was in his apartment He leaned against the corner of the wall, shield dropping a bit. Fury grunted as he sat up a bit straighter,

"You really think I'd need one?" he asked and Steve let out a hard scoff; of course not. "My wife kicked me out." he continued, leaning forward in the chair.

"I didn't know you were married."

"A lot of things you don't know about me." Fury said casually.

"I know, Nick. That's the problem." he moved to flip the switch. The light by by the record player turned on, showing Fury's face. He was bloodied and beat up, one hand clutching his right side. Steve opened his mouth to ask what happened, but Fury stopped him with a motion of his hand. He turned the light back off and went to his phone, typing out a message.

EARS EVERYWHERE.

A sour tasted formed in Steve's mouth as he looked around himself, almost as if he could pick out where the bugs were. Of course there were bugs in his apartment. Quickly, his disappointment with Q shifted; no longer because she rejected him, but because she probably put the bugs there herself. Betrayal ran ice cold through his body. He thought he could trust her.

"I'm sorry to have to do this, but I had no place else to crash." he turned the phone back to himself, typing again before showing Steve.

SHIELD COMPROMISED.

His heart dropped to his stomach. His mind immediately went Q - forgetting about the disappointment he had felt moments earlier. Did she know? Where was she right now?

"Who else knows about your wife?" he asked as Fury got to his feet. Another message popped up on the phone screen.

JUST YOU AND ME.

"Just...my friends." he answered, keeping up the act. His eyes flicked from the phone screen to Fury and he raised his eyebrows,

"Is that what we are?" he let his doubt color his words. For as long as he knew Fury, he never thought of him as a friend. He wasn't even sure that Fury thought of him as anything more than just a soldier.

"That's up to you." Fury answered seriously. The two men stared at each other for a long moment.

And then suddenly, there was a loud blast as something exploded through the walls of Steve's apartment. It hit Fury in the chest and before Steve had time to react, there were two more loud shots, burying themselves into Fury. While Steve immediately pulled up his shield to protect himself from any other shots, Fury fell to the ground, letting out a cry of pain. Steve quickly grabbed hold of his arm, dragging him around the corner and into the kitchen area. As he did, he managed to look around at where the blasts were coming from, noticing the bedroom door was open as was his window.

After making sure that Fury was out of sight of the shooter, he went to go investigate - only for Fury to grab him by the arm and stop him. He let go slowly and spread out his hand, letting Steve see the silver USB drive, marked with SHIELD's logo. It was clear that he was supposed take it from him.

"Don't...trust...anyone." Fury managed out. Before he could ask any more questions, there was a loud banging on the door. Steve instantly readied himself, bringing his shield up and waiting for whoever was coming around the corner.

"Captain Rogers?" The voice sounded familiar. Kate stepped out into the main hallway and into his eyeline. Confusion spread through him as he watched her confidently do a sweep, gun pointed toward where there could be any potential threats, "Captain, I'm Agent Thirteen of SHIELD Special Service." she calmly explained.

"Kate?" he was trying to catch up. Kate wasn't a nurse like he thought, but a SHIELD agent. His next door neighbor was a SHIELD agent.

Did Q know? Of course she did. She had to. They interacted on more than one occasion. The sour taste returned and betrayal once again flooded his bloodstream. Goddamnit, Q. In less than an hour, she had lied to him three times. He wondered what else she had lied to him about.

"I'm assigned to protect you." Kate explained as she stepped into the kitchen. There was a range of different emotions swirling through his body, but he could only focus on one at a time and at that moment, annoyance won out.

"On whose order?" he bit out. Her eyes dropped to where Fury was on the floor, bleeding out,

"His." she said before dropping down to her knees. She placed her gun to the side and reached out to press her fingers against Fury's neck, trying to find a pulse. Then she dug into her scrubs' pocket, pulling out a walkie talkie, "Foxtrot is down, he's unresponsive. I need EMTs." she relayed into the walkie talkie.

"Do we have a twenty on the shooter?" a voice came back. At the question, he quickly shifted into soldier mode; there was a threat and it needed to be taken care of. He moved out of the kitchen area so he could look into his bedroom and out the bedroom window. A flash of silver moved on the roof of the building across the street, turning away from him,

"Tell 'em I'm in pursuit." he said seriously before taking off into a run and launching himself through his bedroom window.

There was enough force behind his jump that he was able to crash through the window of the building across the street. He quickly got to his feet, relying on his super speed to catch up and stay with the shooter. He busted down doors, jumped over desks and slammed into a wall after taking a corner too fast, but he bounced back fast enough to catch back up to the shooter.

Jumping through a window, onto the roof of another building, he launched his shield at the man. The shooter whirled around just in time to catch the shield before it hit him. Steve caught his breath, noticing that the man had caught it with his metal hand. The clicking of the gears echoed through the space between them as the man wound his arm up. He launched the shield back at Steve with such a force that, when he caught it, pushed him back so he slid a few paces away from the shooter.

And just as quickly as the shooter appeared, he disappeared. Steve ran to the edge of the roof, looking down at the ground for any signs of him before looking across the city. There was nothing, no one. The man had disappeared into the night.

He needed to call Q.


	36. not according to plan

The double doors slid open as she practically ran into the bustling hospital. In the midst of her panic, she was able to flash her ID at the STRIKE guys so that they would let her through. Not that it mattered; she'd push her way past them if she had to. Anything so she could get to where she needed to be faster.

The hospital was chaotic: people - all of them SHIELD: doctors, agents, and anyone in between, running around as they tried to take care of different things all at the same time. She spotted Dawson and Maria Hill talking closely, in hushed tones. He looked agitated: one hand on his hip, other gesturing to her almost aggressively, feet squared and expression both worried and grave. Maria had both hands on her hips, looking serious and trying to get a word in, but he kept cutting her off. Q didn't pay attention to them. She had a one track mind, all that mattered was finding Cap. His call worried her, especially considering what he said.

After the utter disaster that happened outside the Thai restaurant, she had retreated home to try and make sense of it all. She knew she had fucked up. Admitting her feelings for him was certainly supposed to happen, but it wasn't supposed to happen that soon. And when the time came, she went in the complete opposite direction. Acting on instinct. Saying the first thing that came to mind. Fucking everything up.

For so long, she had leaned on her graphs and charts to help her make decisions about The Big Stuff. It was safer when she did; then she knew one of her plans would work. Calculated risks. Thanks to her graphs and charts, she knew all the different results that could happen.

Yet, she hadn't prepared for that outcome. Her reliance on both her graphs and her knowledge of Cap's behavior had failed her. Her graphs and charts were useless now. Her pro and con list didn't mean a thing. She hadn't planned for if he admitted his feelings for her first because she just didn't think that it could ever happen. Why would it? A large part of her was unsure that he even liked her like that, so she never even considered it.

But then he said all those things. Like how she made him happy. She did that. Q didn't even know she made anyone happy - sometimes she didn't even make herself happy. Then he continued by dropping that bomb on her: that he had feelings for her. And she reacted….terribly. All she needed to do was tell him that she felt the same; she did, but instead she had said the worst thing possible - insisted on it, in fact.

Then, all she felt was embarrassment. And self-hatred. Why couldn't she had just said that she felt the same? Clearly it was obvious, if he was able to call her out on it. It just...caught her off guard and she reacted poorly. God, she was so stupid. She always did this. Had a good thing in right in front of her, right in reach, and then did whatever it took to make sure she could never have it.

She hated herself. Why did she have to be so reliant on her graphs and charts? Why couldn't she just be normal and take a leap of faith without worrying about the aftereffects? She used to do it all the time. Granted, that was what landed her in jail, but she used to be less anal about these sorts of things. Going with her gut rather than whatever the data points told her to do.

And that wasn't even the worst part. The worst part was that he seemed so disappointed in her for lying to him. She knew how to deal with her own self-hatred, but his disappointment was a new thing she was still struggling with. She wasn't sure if he had ever been this disappointed in her before. She wasn't expecting him to be, but it was clear from the way he left things that he was. She was ready for anger or yelling - something that other guys had done whenever they tried to advance past the casual sleeping together stage and into the relationship stage. When he had pointed out where her excuse had holes and saw through her defense, he didn't turn it into an anger filled argument - instead just leaving her to drown in her own mistakes until she learned how to swim back to shore and admit she had lied. Which both of them knew she had.

Figuring they needed the night to calm down, she retreated back to her apartment to nurse her self-given wounds. Even though it didn't matter anymore, she went over her graphs and charts, her pro and con lists just to be sure she didn't miss something that was right in front of her face. Minus the self-hatred and embarrassment, she felt stupid for even trying to rely on numbers for something that was so clearly emotional. She knew from experience that it could be hard to track emotions, since they could change on a dime. But she thought she had spent enough time with Cap to know what his triggers were. Sam was the new player - she wasn't prepared for him to have such an impact in such a short amount of time.

Then she started to try and move forward, coming up with a small plan of what she needed to do the next time they saw each other. As much as she wanted to tell him that she felt the same, she was too embarrassed and angry at herself. Thankfully, he seemed to be the type of person to have enough sense not to bring it up again, but it would still make for a few awkward weeks until she gathered up enough courage to really tell him.

Though the universe was against her that night. Less than a two hours into her pity party, she got a call from Cap. He quickly and seriously told her that someone had attacked his apartment, Fury had been shot and he had lost the shooter during his pursuit. Q needed to get to the hospital as soon as she possibly could.

All thoughts of what happened a few hours earlier had melted away; she didn't care about what was said or what wasn't said, or how she felt or made him feel. She just needed to know what happened and make sure that he was okay. Her heart was in her throat the entire drive to the hospital. She ignored traffic laws: sped, ran red lights and made some risky moves in an effort to get there as fast as she could.

Pushing the door to the observation room open, she took three quick strides over to where Cap was turning away from the window. She didn't even say hello, just immediately looking him over for any signs of injury. She let her hands push past his jacket, feeling his waist and dragging her hands over to his chest and abdomen. Her eyes scanned where her hands were before moving up to his face, not noticing his confused expression,

"Are you alright? Are you hurt? What happened? Tell me you're okay." she said quickly, trying to get everything out in one breath. He moved to stop her hands, gently pulling them away from where she was inspecting him.

"I'm fine." he said, getting her eyes to finally lock on his, "I'm fine, Q, really." While his expression looked serious, there was also a sadness behind his eyes that was only noticeable up close. She didn't realize that he was so affected by what happened to Fury.

At the thought of Fury, she turned to the massive glass window that looked inside the operating room. There was a team of doctors moving around the table where Fury laid, motionless. He had tubes coming out of every available part of his body and he looked...well, he looked dead. It was startling to see him like that. Ever since she joined SHIELD, she thought of him as this intimidating man who was able to control even the most powerful of heroes. But now, he looked like nothing more than another person who had been shot.

"What happened?" she managed out, stepping up to the window. A rock settled in her stomach; it didn't look good. She stared at the room on the other side of the window. There was the usual hustle and bustle of an operating room: the surgeon was shouting orders, mixing with the sounds of the different machines he was hooked up to, everyone in the room moving like they were in a dance. A symphony of organized chaos.

"He was at my apartment when I got home," Cap started. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his reflection in the glass, but she refused to look at him. She was afraid if she looked away from the scene on the other side, everything would go to shit, "And the next thing I know, there were two blasts, then another. Someone shot him through the wall of the apartment - three times. I tried to go after the shooter, but I lost him on the roof of the building across the street." Her gaze shifted from the operating room to his reflection and she fixed him with a serious look.

"What aren't you telling me?" she asked quietly. Fury wasn't known for unexpected house visits unless it was important. She held his gaze in the reflection before turning around to truly face him. He shrugged, looking away from her as he slipped his hands into his jacket pockets.

"Nothing." he answered, trying to appear casual. She licked her lips and nodded, knowing he was lying to her. As much as she wanted to fight him on it, she knew it was not the time or place. And it was not her biggest concern at the moment.

"Is he gonna make it?" she asked, turning back to the window. She crossed her arms over her chest and continued to watch the surgery. Cap stepped up next to her, resting his fists on the windowsill and leaning his body forward.

"I don't know." he responded solemnly. A lump in her throat formed as she tried to keep her emotions in check. She didn't want to think about what would happen if he didn't.

They stood there in silence as other SHIELD agents and guards came in and out of the observation room, all of them wondering the same thing: Was Fury going to pull through? Maria joined them at one point, greeting Q quietly before standing off to the side. The pair weren't extremely close - mostly because Maria worked in the New York office, but both of them respected and liked the other.

Time moved slowly and things were not improving. It was close to one in the morning when Nat burst through the door of the observation room, out of breath and looking worried. She hurried up to the window, standing in between Cap and Maria. She asked the same question Q had hours earlier and got the same solemn response from Cap.

"Tell me about the shooter." she instructed, moving on.

"He's fast. Strong. Had a metal arm." he said pointedly and seriously. While she hadn't asked about the shooter, the description caught her attention. Especially the metal arm part.

"Ballistics?" Nat continued.

"Three slugs, no rifling. Completely untraceable." Maria rattled off in the same way he had moments before.

"Soviet-made." Nat breathed out, gaining everyone's attention.

"Yeah." Maria confirmed, surprised that she knew.

Suddenly, the operation room went into overdrive. Machines started beeping erratically, the doctors and nurses were rushing around the room and the panic was palpable even behind the glass. Q stepped up closer to the window, hearing Nat's soft pleas and adding her own in her head. She couldn't lose Fury. He was the reason she was the woman she was. She owed so much to him and she hadn't even begun to repay him back.

"Three, two, one. Clear." the surgeon on the other side chanted out before shocking Fury with the defibrillator pads, "Pulse?"

"No pulse." the response came from one of the nurses. Q held her breath as they tried again with the same results. Epinephrine didn't help either.

Realization began to settle in her stomach that Fury was dead. He was dead. She watched him die on the operating table. She turned away from the window and bit down on her bottom lip to keep herself from crying. Not wanting to hear or see what came next, she quickly hurried out of the room and into the bathroom across the hall. No one followed her.

She didn't bother to check if anyone else was in the bathroom with her, just going straight into one of the stalls and locking the door behind her before bursting out into tears. Letting her forehead fall against the stall door, she balled up her fists and let the tears flow freely. Fury was dead. Her mentor. The only man who ever believed she could be something more than who she was. The closest thing she had to a father figure. The man who changed her life for the better - gave her a second chance. Was dead. What the hell was she supposed to do now?

She cried for herself, for her loss and for Fury. She cried until she couldn't cry anymore. Until her body was tired, her face was swollen and her eyes were burning. She felt drained. She had been on an emotional rollercoaster the whole night and she wanted nothing more than to get off. All she wanted was to go home and sleep and hopefully wake up to find out that it had been nothing more than her mind playing tricks on her. But it wasn't a trick or a dream. It was real life and she had to deal with what came next.

There would have to be a debrief. They would need to talk about what happened in his apartment - what really happened. Including the shooter with the metal arm. SHIELD would be a mess and a half trying to figure out their next steps, which meant Cap would need to be there in case they needed him to do anything. She needed to get herself together, get the debrief process started so they could move forward in the investigation and whatever else they needed to do.

Pulling herself together, she sat in the stall until the puffiness in her face went down. No one needed to see that she had been crying. There wasn't time for tears or grieving at the moment. She wiped at her eyes and blew her nose before stepping out of the stall to splash some cold water on her face to help with the puffiness. Her reflection showed that she just looked tired, which considering it was almost one fifteen in the morning, was better than crying.

She exited the bathroom to see that Cap stepping away from a vending machine. There was no sign of Natasha or Maria, but Dawson caught her arm. He stopped her from walking over to Cap. She glanced over at him, up close he looked tired with bags under his eyes and fidgeting a bit more than usual.

"I need to talk with you." his voice was hushed, but his tone urgent.

"I can't right now." she said, pulling out of his grasp and eyes darting to where Cap was, "I have to go with Cap."

"No, that's not the most important thing right now." he tried to get her to listen to him, putting up his hands as if that would stop her from going anywhere, but she was focused on where Cap was walking toward Rumlow.

"I'm sorry, Dawson, but it is." she gave him an apologetic smile before hurrying after the STRIKE team and Cap. Surely Dawson would understand the situation at hand. Whatever he needed to tell her could wait.

Not wanting to leave her car at the hospital, she followed the transport SUVs back to the Triskelion. She was able to get there at the same time as the STRIKE team and Cap, falling into step next to him. He didn't say a word to her as they stepped onto the elevator, nor did he say anything when they reached the conference room. She didn't know what to say to him so she stayed quiet too, hating the uncomfortableness of it.

When they arrived to the room, her boss was waiting inside. Not Fury, obviously, but the man she reported to before she was assigned to Cap. Decked out in his suit and tie, he hadn't changed a bit since she last saw him six months prior. She was surprised and confused to see him there; usually her debriefs with Cap were between her and him. The STRIKE team placed two men outside the room and left Q, Cap and her previous boss.

"Halliday," she started as she moved around the table, "What are you doing here?" she asked, only for her previous boss to stop her.

"Agent Proctor, if you could wait outside with the STRIKE team please. I'll be conducting this debrief with Captain Rogers." he said in a civil manner, but it was clear that it was an order.

"Excuse me?" she asked, brow furrowing, "Captain Rogers is my assignment. Director Fury made it very clear that I was to be conducting any and all debriefs."

"Director Fury is dead, Agent Proctor." he said matter of factly, "And we need to make sure we understand exactly what happened in Captain Rogers' apartment this evening. There needn't be any personal feelings interfering."

"I don't let my personal feelings interfere with my work, Halliday." she responded steely. Her temper was flaring. Halliday had never treated her like this before. It was like he knew something she didn't.

"Still." he said, lifting his chin up and tapping his pen against his palm. It was clear there was no room for argument. Pressing her lips together, she held back on saying anything else. She turned to look at Cap, giving him that warm, professional smile she knew he hated.

"Captain Rogers, you are in good hands." she assured him as he eyed Halliday. Cap kept his stance tall, adapting the way Bucky stood, as he did when he wanted to appear more confident and Captain-like, "And I will be right outside if you need anything." he nodded once, eyes flicking over to meet hers quickly before looking back at Halliday.

"Agent." Halliday indicated that it was her time to leave. She pulled down her blazer and nodded once, ignoring the quick smile he gave her before she left the room.

Blowing a puff of air through her lips, she crossed her arms over her chest and kicked at the ground. For once since she was assigned to Cap, she was out of the loop. She hated it. The debrief was her chance to find out what exactly happened in his apartment before Fury was shot. He hadn't spoken a word to her since she arrived at the hospital. There was an awkward vibe between them and she knew exactly why. But she pushed past it for the sake of the situation - she hoped that he could do the same, but he didn't.

"How are you holding up?" Rumlow's voice got her attention. She looked over to see him fixing his comm. She wasn't expecting Rumlow to even be talking to her in such a public setting where anyone could see. Since she ended their sexationship, they hadn't interacted - even going out of their way to avoid each other. But now he was willingly asking her a question and starting a conversation.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine." she gave him a tight smile, nodding her head a bit.

"I know how important Fury was to you." he said sincerely, giving her once over. "I'm sorry, Q." he added. Her stomach rolled at his apology. He was being kind to her and it was making her feel uncomfortable. She didn't need to be pitied. Especially by Rumlow.

"Don't do this." she shook her head, glancing around the hall for who else was around.

"Don't do what?" he asked, hand dropping and settling on the gun that was slung around his chest.

"Just, don't. Alright, Rumlow?" she held her hand up, not wanting it to go any further. His jaw clenched and he stared at her for a moment before nodding once and turning away. She let out a sigh and leaned against the wall, trying to keep her emotions in check.

The debrief didn't take as long as she had expected which led her to believe that he didn't tell Halliday the entirety of what happened earlier in the night. Still, when the door opened, she straightened up and tried to look professional as the men exited the room, shaking hands before Halliday walked away.

"How was it?" she asked with a raise of her eyebrows. He shrugged, hands dipping back into his pants' pockets.

"Fine. Straight to the point." he responded, pulling the corners of his mouth down. Again, she felt like he was holding something from her. But she gave him a small smile and nodded.

"Well, you must be tired." she prompted, checking her watch. It was almost two am. "Let's get you out of here." He relaxed at that, seemingly eager to leave the Triskelion. That wasn't unusual to her; she knew how much being at SHIELD could stress him out. And considering the circumstances, he had a huge reason to be stressed.

A heavy sigh escaped him as she drove across the bridge away from the Triskelion. She glanced over to see him slumping down in his seat a bit, much more comfortable now that the building was in the rearview mirror.

"I'll be taking you to my apartment for the rest of the night." she started, doing a double take between him and the road. While he had been in his debrief, she had been planning what their next steps would be. He gave her a funny look and she continued, "It's unsafe for you to stay at your apartment." she explained motioning with her hand, "It's an active crime scene and SHIELD will be there for the rest of the night collecting evidence, making sure we didn't miss anything." she gave him a reassuring smile, "Trust me, you'll be very safe at my place."

"Did you check for bugs?" he asked casually, raising his eyebrows slightly. She furrowed hers and let out a little laugh,

"Uh, well, I saw a cockroach a while ago, but I sprayed it with Febreze and left it's dead body out as a warning to others, so I think we're good." she joked, glancing to look at him. He didn't look amused.

"That's not what I meant." he said, raising his chin up, "I know my apartment was bugged, Q." he paused, "Fury told me. And you said you did all the decorating, remember?" his tone was serious. Her mouth opened a bit in shock. She never put bugs in his apartment. In fact, she specifically told them not to; if he found one, he wouldn't ever trust her.

"I never did that." she defended herself, "I didn't put bugs in your apartment, Cap." she said seriously. He stared at her before shaking his head and looking away from her, obviously not believing her. "I wouldn't do that to you." she continued, trying to get him to believe her, "I know how much you value - I - they asked me and I said no. I told them not to do that...fuck." she breathed out, "I'm so sorry, Cap. I didn't know." she looked over at him, feeling guilt settle in her stomach. He had that same look in his eyes as he did back at the hospital and she realized it was sadness, but disappointment. Once again, she had managed to disappoint him. The worst feeling in the world.

The rest of the car ride was spent in tense silence. She didn't know what to do. It wasn't her fault that SHIELD put bugs in his apartment, but she still felt like it was. She should've checked, made sure they listened to her. Of course they didn't. Of course Fury would want the apartment bugged so that he could hear everything - which meant they heard everything. Personal conversations between the two and shared stories were no longer between just them. Whoever had access to the recordings knew everything. Including things she hadn't told anyone before him.

With her nerves and guilt and sadness tumbling together in her stomach, they got to her apartment. She did a sweep of her apartment, knowing all the places SHIELD liked to put bugs and found that - thankfully, there was nothing.

"We should probably talk about what happened." she started, swallowing the lump in her throat as she took off her blazer. She still wanted to hear his side of the story, knowing that he had been keeping things from her. The bugs in the apartment was only a small part of it.

"I already gave all the information I have about Fury's death to Agent Halliday." he said seriously, back to her. Clearly, he didn't want to talk to her.

"Yeah, but that…that was the official debriefing. There's more to it than just the facts." she pointed out. He didn't turn around, but his head fell forward and she could see that he was fiddling with his hands.

"I'm fine." he bit out, voice thick. She stepped closer, leaving some space between the two of them as she swallowed back the lump in her throat.

"I know you're angry and upset about everything, but we should talk about it." she pushed, wanting him to talk to her about it. There was a beat before he turned around to look at her and she instantly regretted even pushing him. He looked angry, hands going to settle on his hips as he fixed her with a hard look,

"What do you want to talk about, Q?" he asked, "How you lied to me about the bugs in my apartment-?"

"I told you I had nothing to do with that -" she tried to explain herself again, but he talked over her,

"Or what about my neighbor. Kate?" he let out a harsh laugh, "Oh, wait, I mean, Agent Thirteen of SHIELD Special Services." he bit out. Her heart dropped to her stomach. Shit. He knew. He found out about Sharon. Of course he did, she was there to protect him and when he was under attack, she had to ditch her cover to make sure he was alright.

Covering her face with her hands, Q tried to stop herself from bursting into tears. The last thing she wanted to do was come off as an emotional wreck, but everything was happening so fast and it was all too intense for her body to handle. All she wanted to do was cry.

"Fuck, it wasn't supposed to happen like this." she groaned.

"How was it supposed to happen?" he seethed out. God, he was so angry with her. Why had she kept up this lie for so long?

"I don't know!" she cried out from behind her hands, not wanting to see his disappointed and angry and betrayed look, "I didn't - it was for your own protection. I didn't want to lie to you. I just wanted you to feel like you had a normal life." she tried to explain herself as best as she could.

"But you did lie to me! You played the game! Hell, you even tried to set me up with her! You wanted me to ask her out!" he yelled out, making her flinch. She turned in a slow circle, biting her bottom lip as she did.

"I know! I know." she responded, not really having an explanation for that, "God, Cap, I'm so sorry." she ended her circle back facing him. She dropped her hands from her face with a huff, letting her see the disappointed/angry/betrayed look on his face. She tried to ignore it, "I don't know what I was thinking - clearly I wasn't thinking. But I just wanted to protect you but then I got in too deep and then I couldn't dig myself out." she paused for a moment, "I never meant to hurt you, Cap." Tears were building and she quickly blinked them away, "I never wanted to...shit…" she trailed off, looking to side and biting down on her lower lip.

"What else have you lied about?" he asked seriously, voice even as she rubbed her forehead, "Think really hard, Q." he placed his hands on his hips, squinting at her a bit. She continued to chew on her bottom lip, rocking from side to side as she thought.

"Nothing, nothing." she answered with a shake of her head, "That was the only thing."

"It was a pretty big thing." he pointed out, still angry with her. She rolled her lips in and nodded, arms crossing over her chest.

"I know." she breathed out, "And I'm so sorry, Cap." she tried to sound as sincere as possible; she meant it, she really did. He stared at her, shaking his head a bit. "I shouldn't have...I should have told you." she took in a breath, "And now all of this… Fury's dead." she raised her eyebrows up, eyes going wide. She looked back at him, wiping her hand under her eyes, "I just wanted to make sure - that you were okay." she gave him a sad smile.

Steve paused, hearing her words catch in the back of her throat. She was obviously trying to keep her composure and not break down right in front of him. His heart cracked at the sight; he had spent all night being so angry and frustrated at her for lying to him over and over again, that he didn't even stop to think about how Fury's death was affecting her.

While she maintained the facade of being strong and unbothered by it - remaining by his side practically the whole time, her mask had finally slipped. Underneath her facade, she was overwhelmed by everything and he wasn't making it any easier on her. She was right; all she wanted to do was make sure he was okay. She was doing what she thought was the right thing in order to help him. That's all she ever tried to do when it came to him.

Stepping forward, he wrapped his arms around her, bringing her into his chest for a hug. Yes, he was still mad at her, but he wanted to at least try and comfort her a little bit. Her posture was stiff at first, surprised by what he was doing, but then she relaxed into his arms. Her arms snaked around his torso and gripped onto the back of his jacket. She pressed her face into his shoulder and sniffled lightly.

"I'm sorry about lying to you about Kate." she apologized softly, "I completely went about it the wrong way." she explained, stepping out of the hug and giving him an apologetic smile, "But I seem to be doing that a lot lately so..." she said, glancing off to the side. She crossed one arm across her stomach, reaching to scratch her other arm. His brow furrowed and he tilted his head, not understanding what she meant.

"What do you mean?" he asked, wanting her to explain it a bit more. She looked back at him and took in a breath.

"Like tonight, at the Thai restaurant." the small smile returned, "When you said you had feelings for me…" she trailed off, reminding him of what happened earlier in the evening. With everything that had happened in the last few hours, that seemed like a lifetime ago. He lifted his chin up and let out a little ah, hands slipping into his pockets.

"I, uh," she took in a deep breath, "I have feelings for you too, Cap." she admitted, closing one eye and scratching her temple. He raised his eyebrows, eyes going wide when he looked at her. "Really?" he asked, throat suddenly very dry. She gave him a little smile and nodded, "Why - why didn't you say anything?" What she said wasn't enough to make him forget about everything that happened, his anger was still pulsing softly in his sternum. And he didn't forget how persistent she was in the fact that she didn't have feelings for him.

"Because you caught me off guard." she let out a little laugh, even though it wasn't a joke. She let out a sigh and looked past him, "I had a plan." she said with a slight raise of her eyebrows. She stepped to the side, moving over to the dining room table, "Came up with graphs and charts to plot out when would be the right time to tell you." she continued, shuffling the papers that were on the table. He moved to the other side, seeing that she was holding up what she was talking about, "Pro/con lists." she waved the papers in the air, "A packet that outlined how and when I was going to tell you." she tossed it across the table and it landed with a thump. A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth; she had made a packet in order to tell him how she felt, "And I was even working on a PowerPoint." he looked over at her, grin spreading across his face.

"A PowerPoint?" he asked, amused. She shrugged, twisting her mouth to the side,

"It had nice transitions." His grin became wider as he looked down at the papers on the table. He moved a few of them aside, scanning the pro/con list she had created.

"One of your cons is that I sometimes dress like a grandpa?" he asked, growing more and more amused with each new thing he learned. She shrugged, trying not to smile,

"I mean, you were pretty bad at one point." she gestured to him. He laughed a little, shaking his head as she crossed her arms over her chest.

As he continued to glance over all her research and planning, she went into the kitchen to get a soda and water for him. His anger began to dissipate at all the data she came up with. It was amazing to see how much work she had put in to planning out the perfect way to tell him so that no one's feelings were hurt or there wasn't any awkwardness between them if it didn't work out as planned. Though it was kind of weird that she had the need to plan out everything - including telling him she had feelings for him.

But she had feelings for him. Everything on the table proved it. His heart swelled, promptly making him forget all the feelings of frustration and betrayal he had felt toward her for the past several hours. With all the terrible things that had happened, this felt like a small moment of hope and happiness. He was not about to let that slip away.

Moving over to the other side of the breakfast bar, he took the water she had set on the counter for him. He cracked it open while she pulled the tab of her soda. Both of them tried not to grin at each other as they took their first sips. He set his water back down and twisted it around in a small circle.

"So… you do have feelings for me." he said with a slight smirk. He stopped himself from saying I told you so, even though he did tell her so.

"I do." she confirmed, pushing back against the counter and ducking her head down so he couldn't see her grin. "But you have feelings for me too." she pointed out, reminding him that he had admitted his feelings first. He gave a little laugh in response. Her heart felt like it was about to burst. Finally, it was all out on the table - literally, and he had responded positively despite everything that had happened before.

"What does your packet have to say about that?" he asked with a raise of his eyebrows. Her eyes found his and she gave him a smile.

"Fuck the packet." she shrugged one shoulder, laughing a little. None of this had gone according to plan or to the packet, but it had managed to work out all on its own. Maybe that was the lesson.

"Jar." he grinned at her. She rolled her eyes and took a sip of her soda. Shifting forward against the breakfast bar, he slid himself closer to her,

"So what now?" she asked, reaching out with her free hand to absentmindedly trail her fingers up and down his wrist.

"I'd like to kiss you." he told her hopefully, "For real this time." she bit her lip because if she smiled any wider, her face was going to split in half.

"Please do." she encouraged him, even leaning a bit closer so there wasn't so much space between them anymore.

Gently pushing his water bottle to the side, he reached out to softly press his hand to her cheek. He pulled her face toward his, tilting her face up just a bit, enough so he could he could press his lips against hers. They had had plenty of practice kisses before, but nothing compared to this one. This one was real. It was soft and tender, full of all the feelings they had been holding back. He pulled away, just briefly, before kissing her again. She tasted as sweet as the soda she had been drinking - there was still a slight a fizziness to her lips, that made him buzz. While he hadn't been practicing since their last kiss - that she knew of at least, he had somehow gotten better at kissing her. She kissed him back, reaching out to snake her hand around his neck and pull him closer.

As their kisses continued, he used his free hand to move her soda out of the way so they wouldn't accidentally spill it. He didn't intend to kiss her in such a way, but he liked it and decided not to question it. His hand settled on her hip, other hand moving to press against the side of her face - practically covering it. She used her free hand to try and push herself up onto the counter in order to get closer to him. Understanding what she was trying to do, he helped her by moving both his hands to her hips and easily pulled her over to his side of the breakfast bar. It was the sexiest thing any man had ever done to her.

When she was comfortably seated on the counter of the breakfast bar, she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him in as her hands ran through his hair. His hands tended to stay on her hips, but every so often they would wander around to her ass or to her thigh, before he quickly pulled them back to her hips. He didn't want her to think he was being disrespectful.

The softness and tenderness of their kisses had morphed into something else entirely, almost like they were trying to make up for lost time. Or maybe like they were running out of time. Again, he hadn't meant to kiss her in such a way, but his confidence was building the longer their make-out session continued and he found himself going with his gut. His lips strayed here and there, kissing the corners of her mouth or dipping down to her jaw and neck. She always pulled his face back to hers so she could kiss him encouragingly. Nothing was said, but also everything was.

Wanting nothing more than to continue, Q knew where this would ultimately lead. And she wasn't sure if he wanted it to go where it was headed. So she pulled back first, just enough to let herself speak, but he continued to try and steal quick kisses from her.

"It's late." she breathed out, having all of her oxygen stolen by the man in front of her. Her eyes darted down to the watch on her wrist, it's face showing that it was well after two am. He hummed in agreement, forehead resting against hers. "We should get some sleep." he swallowed and nodded, skin moving against hers.

"I can take the couch." he offered, voice rough from lack of use.

"No, no," she settled her hands on his shoulders, "take the bed." she gave him a warm smile. He returned it and nodded, for once not fighting her on it, "But first, I have to take a shower." she unhooked her legs from around him. He gave her a little grin and nodded again. He stepped back, helping her off the breakfast counter. He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and gave her a smile before she went to go move for her bathroom.

Before she could get very far, he grabbed her hand and pulled her back to him. His arms wrapped around her, pressing her into his chest as he kissed her again. She rested her hands against his cheeks and kept his face right where she wanted it, kissing him back just as eagerly.

"Cap…" she breathed out as she pulled away from him, "As much as I enjoy kissing you...this is heading dangerously close to something more." her tongue darted out to lick her lips. He gave her a little smirk, leaning forward to kiss her again.

"I may have been frozen in a block of ice for seventy years, but I'm not an idiot." he whispered confidently, making her laugh lightly.

"And you're okay with it?" she asked, biting her bottom lip. She knew how special it was to him and didn't want to pressure him into anything. He gave her a soft smile and nodded. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she kissed him again. She started to walk backward to her bedroom - him following her lead.


	37. new sensations (m)

Whatever confidence he had exuded in the kitchen had disappeared the moment he stepped foot into her bedroom. His insides twisted with nerves as he kicked off his shoes, a warmth began to form under his arms as he climbed onto the bed, and his mouth became dry when he saw how she looked at him with a knowing smirk. He had been on plenty of nerve-inducing, life-threatening missions, but those were nothing compared to what he was faced with now. He had never gotten this far with a woman before so he wasn't quite sure how to continue.

Starting to kiss her, he could tell that his confidence was shaken. They weren't the same kisses they had shared in the kitchen before - and it was a noticeable, bad difference. He paused, pulling back and moving to sit on the side of the bed. She sat up and moved over to sit next to him, a confused look on her face,

"I'm sorry." he apologized, not really knowing why he was. She hooked her legs over his thigh and shook her head,

"No, don't be." she started to rub his arm gently, "What's the matter?"

"I...have no idea what I'm doing." he admitted with a slight laugh. She gave him a reassuring smile and he met her eyes,

"That's okay." she assured him, "We don't have to do anything you don't want to do." her gaze was soft, but serious as she rested their foreheads against each other's. Moving her hand as if she was tucking his hair behind his ear, she continued, "We can go as slow as you want. Just tell me if you wanna stop and we'll stop." she gave him a small smile and he waited a beat before kissing her again. While this wasn't exactly how he thought it would happen, the idea of being with Q was one that felt right to him.

He let her lead, never wanting to overstep any lines that he wasn't aware were there. She moved his hands where she wanted them: on her thigh and hip. She encouraged him to do what felt right to him. He remembered Bucky saying that a woman wanted to feel special and appreciated in bedroom. Not that he was ever sure how far Bucky ever got with some of the ladies he walked home, but he still took the advice. He took his time, slowed down his kisses and tried to relish in the moment. He wanted her to feel special and appreciated.

His mouth trailed down to her neck, softly kissing the sensitive skin there and hearing her let out a sigh at the sensation. While he kissed and sucked against the skin, his hand moved up from her hip to her chest, resting right under her breast. She wrapped her hand around his, lifted it off her chest and then set it on top of her breast, silently telling him it was okay. He gently started to squeeze and massage it over her shirt, not wanting to apply too much pressure to hurt her.

Her legs wrapped around his, bare foot rubbing up against his calf. She rolled her hips up and her skirt brushed against his jeans. Her hands moved to strip him of his jacket and shirt, making him pull back from her so he could toss the articles of clothing aside. Biting her lip, Q reached forward to softly trail her hands around his chest. He had a dusting of blonde hair over his chest, but he was all flowing muscles and taut edges, that slim waist leading up to those wide shoulders. Just thinking about all that he could do with those muscles, made goosebumps appear on her skin - just as some appeared on his after her hands touched his skin.

"You been working out?" she teased, that Brooklyn accent slipping out as she looked up at him with a grin.

"Only every day." he responded, making her laugh a little. She wrapped her hand around his neck and pulled him back so she could kiss him. Her kiss turned fervent, filled with need and he kissed her back - silently telling her he understood.

Scooting down, she laid down against the pillows and his hands skated around her clothed chest. His mouth trailed kisses from her lips down to her chin then down her throat, stopping right where she kept her shirt unbuttoned. She could feel his fingers playing with the bottom buttons of her shirt, but he didn't go any further.

"Is this okay?" he asked, ever the gentleman as his hand hovered above her, not touching her until he had her full consent. She nodded eagerly, hands going to run through his hair. At her nod, he started to slowly unbutton her shirt - fingers lightly brushing against her skin as he did. Steve was a little more tentative than her other sexual partners. And maybe it was because it was his first time touching her. She couldn't be sure, but she was eager to find out.

Briefly, she had a moment of panic because she remembered she wasn't wearing her best bra or even one that matched her underwear. Usually she didn't care about that sort of stuff when it came to sex - whoever was her partner for the night made quick work of discarding her clothes as fast as possible, but for some reason, she did. Maybe because this seemed more serious than all the other times. This meant something more.

Once her shirt was completely unbuttoned, she slid her arms out of the sleeves and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for an eager kiss. His hands moved up her bare skin, palming at her breasts over her bra, becoming a little bit surer with his actions. She rolled her hips up against him and her fingers went to tug at the hair on the back of his head. Q was, if nothing else, a little touch starved. She hadn't been with anyone since she had broken off the sexationship with Rumlow. While she was willing to go as slow as Steve needed, she knew her body was already reacting to him. He was nothing like she was used to with other guys she had been with; he was gentle and soft. He was taking his time, almost like he was trying to memorize everything she liked and forgetting everything she didn't.

Thankfully, Q was one step ahead of him and took off her bra before he had to try and figure out that contraption. Not that he had much experience with them to begin with, but he could tell that the shape and design were different from the ones in the stores or the ones Bucky described. He didn't want to embarrass himself so soon into the night's activities.

He was hesitant to touch her without the clothes or bra between them - fearing he would do it wrong or she wouldn't like it. He tried to ignore his self-doubt; she would tell him if she didn't like anything. Still, he checked in with her before doing anything, hearing her breathe out a yes - almost like she was anticipating it.

If anything, his constant check-ins were turning her on even more. Q was so used to dirty talk and her partners just taking what they wanted from her. He asked before doing anything, asking if she wanted him to or what she wanted him to do next. She wasn't sure if he knew that it was sending chills of excitement through her body, but it was. Her chest arched up into his touch and she encouraged him to do more, which was how his mouth found her nipple. He swirled his tongue around before sucking gently and making her moan. He was a fast learner, but she could still teach him a lot.

Her hands moved to quickly unbuckle his pants and he moved away, rolling over to push them off. She took the opportunity to straddle him, grinding her hips down onto his lap, her kiss capturing his low noise of surprise. She pressed her hands into his chest as she moved her mouth down from his lips to his chest. Kissing down his chest, she got to his abdomen and paused at the edge of his boxers.

Steve looked down to see that she was sitting back on her knees, hands sliding down to his hips and settling at the tops of his boxers. His chest rose and fell with each quick breath he took, but his stomach tightened again at the mere thought of what was coming next - not out of fear, but with nerves. While he had never, ever gotten this far before, he also realized he was about to very naked in front of her. This was blowing past any professional boundaries she had set up previously.

But she didn't seem to care. Her hands slowly pushed down his boxers, eyes meeting his with a wicked grin. She leaned forward to kiss him as she pushed down his boxers far enough for him to kick them off the rest of the way. Then, without warning, her hand moved to wrap around him. He involuntarily let out a low moan at the sensation. It was different than anything he had ever experienced before. Her hand was cool against his skin, but her touch was light. She dragged her hand up and around him as she moved to his neck to suck against a sensitive spot he wasn't even aware he had.

"What? They didn't have foreplay back in your day?" she murmured against his skin. He let out a breathless laugh,

"I wouldn't know." he managed, blinking hard. She smiled against his skin, continuing to twist and pump her hand around him. While he had heard stories from Bucky about a certain type of girl doing this to him, Steve had never experienced it himself. Q was not the same type of girl Bucky described so he figured it was more popular nowadays than back then.

When her thumb swiped against him, his hips jerked up against her. A flower of pride blossomed in her chest; who knew he was so sensitive? But then she remembered this was his first time doing...well, anything. She wanted him to enjoy it. And from the moans and low groans coming out of his mouth while he was gripping the sheets tight enough to rip them, she knew he was. She moved away from his neck to press a kiss to the tip, making him jolt harshly,

"Fuck." he seethed out, his own Brooklyn accent lilting the word and making her grin.

"Jar." she whispered out and he groaned.

Not wanting him to get ahead of himself, she released him after a few more moments. He let out a shaky breath and unfurled his fists from the sheets. She grinned at him, crawling up to kiss him softly.

"Doin' okay?" she asked. Steve let out another slow breath and nodded,

"Yeah, yep...uh, thank you." she giggled as he sat up against the headboard.

"You're welcome." she trailed her hand down his cheek as she sat on his lap. She felt him against her underwear and bit her lip to control her reaction. He kissed her again, one hand moving behind her head while the other moved back down to play with her chest - becoming a little more sure of himself.

Steve's hands were suddenly everywhere. First her waist, then up to her arms, her chest...He figured out where her sensitive spots were and stayed there, hearing her moan and feeling her roll her hips against his. Her fingers tangled in his hair as he kissed and nipped, encouraging him the whole time.

He moved so he could roll them over, placing her down against the pillows and trapping her in between his hands and legs. She squirmed underneath him, biting on her lower lip for a moment before reaching for him. He kissed her, moving his hands down to her hips where her skirt started. While Q was distracted by his eager kisses, his fingers found the zipper of her skirt - on the side, and gently started to tug it down. She lifted her hips up for him to have an easier time removing it. Breaking off the kisses, he moved back so he could take it off all the way, letting it drop to the floor by the bed.

"This is where your tattoo is?" he asked, hand sliding up her left leg to her thigh. When Frankie mentioned she had a tattoo and then she refused to tell Steve where it was, he thought it was on her foot or chest - not her upper thigh. She nodded as he admired it, gently turning her leg in so he could see the full thing. It was as a massive outlined flower design going all the way up to the bottom of her ass.

The tattoo consisted of three different flowers, all pressed together, with a few leaves sticking out here and there along with a half of a multi-layered geometric flower. There were two dotted chains hanging from the geometric flower and the bottom flower, intersecting together before one dropped down into a small teardrop shape. It was complicated, but beautifully detailed and something Steve had never seen before.

She had gotten it when she was a teenager, under the legal age in New York. And since her parents would never go for her getting a tattoo at such a young age, she hired out a woman from Craigslist to pretend to be her mom. Because it was so intricate and so detailed and in such a tender spot, the process took weeks. It was the most expensive tattoo ever.

"What's it mean?" he asked in awe of the design.

"Uh, if you want, each flower could represent me, my brother and my sister." she raised her eyebrows up. He met her expressive eyes.

"But…" he trailed off and she sighed.

"But really, I saw it on MySpace when I was a teenager and thought it would be cool. Some girl in Romania drew it." Steve nodded, turning back to look over the tattoo.

"Why here?" he asked, just curious. If he had learned anything from her about her teenage, pre-SHIELD self, it was that she usually had no rhyme or reason to her actions. The tattoo was a good example of that.

"So my parents wouldn't see it." she laughed a little, "But I was stupid and forgot about summers in Brooklyn." he looked back at her, eyes going wide and she clenched her teeth together, "I wore a lot of jeans." he gave a sad little laugh, feeling bad for her,

"Oh no." he said, pitying her a bit. She grimaced and nodded, covering her face with her hands for a moment before sighing.

"But I love it." she looked back down at the tattoo. He was quiet for a moment, long enough for her to ask, "Do you like it?" she asked, suddenly feeling very self-conscious about her tattoo. She never had before, but she really wanted him to like it.

"I do." he said sincerely. He looked over at her again, giving her a smile, "It's really, very cool." A happy smile spread across her face and the doubt faded away quickly. His fingers gently trailed over the lines of the tattoo, tracing each petal of every flower.

Q kept her eyes him for a moment, watching how he traced every part of her tattoo. Both of them were already (practically) naked, but this felt much more intimate than any sexual act. Goosebumps appeared where he touched her skin; no one had ever paid such close attention to her tattoo before. She reached down to pull his face up to hers so she could kiss him deeply. He smiled against her kiss before moving away to continue with what he was doing before he got distracted by her tattoo. He pressed a kiss to each of her thighs before sliding his hands up to tug off her underwear.

Steve paused at the sight in front of him. God, she was a vision. Hiding under those pantsuits and business professional clothes was a woman. One of the most beautiful ones he had ever seen. Again, he felt whatever confidence he had slowly start to seep out of him. He let his hands skate up and around her thighs as he debated with himself. Back in the day, Bucky would tell stories of this moment. He didn't care if it wasn't socially acceptable; it was all about making his lady feel good. And Steve wanted to make Q feel good.

Rolling back up, he pressed a sure kiss to her lips, readying himself. He could do this. Steve slid his right hand between them and in between her thighs. She squirmed, body begging for his fingers to make their ascent quicker.

"Is this something you want?" he asked, hand ghosting over her. She whined and bucked her hips up against his hand.

"Yes, Steve, please," she breathed out. Who knew the simple question of asking her if she wanted it could turn her on so much. His fingers trailed over her for a moment or two, seeing how she reacted. She whined again, wanting more, "Didn't realize you were such a tease."

"Just making sure you want it." he whispered and she knew he was just trying to be polite, but it still sent a shiver down her spine. It was way hotter than any of the dirty talk she had heard previously.

Soft touched led to gentle strokes until he slipped one finger inside her, all while kissing down her bare shoulders. Her mouth dropped open and her head dropped backward, the angle and the thickness making her lose it for a moment. His thumb sought out her sensitive spot - her loud moan alerting him to the fact that he found it. Steve was reacting just as much as she was, getting lost in the new act he was performing and the sensations it brought about. He was becoming more confident in himself, knowing he could (and should) continue, so his kisses started moving down to her chest and then stomach before he settled in between her legs.

"Steve, please, please." she didn't care how desperate she sounded. His breath was sending chills up her spine and sending her into overdrive. He obliged, pressing his mouth against her.

Since this was his first time, it took a few tries for him to get it right. He experimented, in order to learn what she liked and how she liked it. But she was very vocal which made it a lot easier. His name came tumbling from her lips like a prayer, her legs wrapping around his neck and pushing his face in deeper, and her hands gripping either the bed sheet or his hair rather tightly. Her hips rolled up against his face as he licked and sucked and tried to use his fingers to help her along.

Him going down on her was much different than any other guy before. Most didn't. Those who did, tried to be as fast as possible - not caring if she got anything out of it. And even if it was his first time, he was good at it. He was a quick learner and made sure to correct his mistakes almost immediately.

"Do you like -"

"Fuck, Steve, please don't stop." Q cut him off breathlessly.

"Jar." she could feel his smirk against her, but before she could retort he did something with his tongue to make her let out a moan.

Her orgasm hit her hard and practically out of nowhere, she didn't have time to warn him before it wracked through her body. She crunched up, letting out a moan as her grip on his hair tightened and her legs squeezed around him. It washed over her, sending her into a state of pure bliss. She swore she saw stars. It was one of the best orgasms she had had in a very long time.

After she rode it out, she fell back against the pillows with a sigh. Free of her legs and hand, he moved back to wipe his mouth against the sheet. Her chest heaved as she caught her breath, hair spread out across the pillow in wild, dark tendrils and cheeks flushed with a little redness. She had never looked more beautiful. His eyes raked her and Q felt like she was the only thing he could see, the prettiest thing he'd ever seen. He was nothing that she had expected so far and yet everything she'd hoped for, fantasized for. Her head was swimming, her body was singing, and she was beyond ready for whatever he wanted to give her.

Steve shifted so he was sitting up on his knees in between her open legs. He leaned forward, placing his hands on either side of her head,

"If you want to back out, we can." she said softly, reaching up to caress his face, "I know how special this is for you."

"It's special because of who I'm with." he assured her. He leaned forward to kiss her softly, but soundly. He never thought that this was how it would go down, but it felt right with her. She tasted herself on him and couldn't help but grin a little, "One last time, so I'm sure." he prompted her quietly.

"I'm positive, Cap. Are you?" she asked.

"A hundred percent." he answered immediately. She gave him a little smile and pushed forward to kiss him again before shifting under him to get a little more comfortable.

Q was a little nervous for him. She remembered her first time, sure, but that was different than what was happening in that moment. She tried to make it as easy as possible for him (getting the condom on for him), guiding him (through the basics even though he said knew) and helping him as much as she could (with anything else).

Once he was ready, he placed his hands on her knees and checked in with her one last time. After she assured him again that she wanted this - wanted him, serpents slithered up his veins in anticipation. He carefully lined himself up before slowly pushing inside of her. She let out a low moan at the feeling of him completely inside of her, catching his attention,

"Am I hurting you?" he asked, concerned.

"God, no," she breathed out, "you're good. How are you feeling?" he paused at her question, taking an experimental thrust. Her breath caught and she grabbed on to his shoulders to hold herself steady, hearing him groan,

"Fucking great." he answered her before thrusting in again. She couldn't help the sound of pleasure that left her and he grinned at it.

Pulling her knees up, she let Steve go deeper inside of her as he figured out his rhythm and angles - drawing new noises from both of them each time. She maintained eye contact with him, noticing how he looked at her with need and want. She'd never seen Steve look the way he did at that moment. His blue eyes had turned to midnight, his expression was intense and focused entirely on her.

As he picked up his pace, he buried his face into her neck. It was like the world tilted on its axis as he experienced all these new sensations for the first time. The sounds she was making were jarring, but beautiful and her body was responding to his as much as his was responding to hers. He pressed sloppy kisses to her skin as his hands gripped her hips, steadying her as he slammed into her.

"Q…" he breathed out, dragging his face against her hair before picking it up to look at her, "I don't...I don't know how long…" he managed out, almost panting at that point. She nodded, having assumed it wouldn't last as long as she was used to. She pressed her hands against his cheeks, getting him to look at her.

"Come for me." she told him. He bit his bottom lip, eyes fluttering shut as his rhythm stuttered. He let out a groan and his grip on her hips became tighter as he came. She let out a gasp at the feeling and he pitched forward to bury his face into her hair. His body slumped on top of hers, his full weight resting on her for a moment as he came down from his high. She ran her fingers through his hair and down his back, murmuring sweet nothings into his ear and pressing soft kisses around his face until he calmed down.

"God bless America." she sighed out, making him laugh. Truly, fully, belly laugh. His laughter sparked her laughter and the room was suddenly filled with the sound of their amusement. She was laughing so hard, she snorted, which caused him to start laughing even more. Embarrassed, she tried to cover her face with her hands, but he didn't let her, stopping her and saying how cute he thought it was. She smiled up at him before kissing him once again, a grin spreading out across her face as he kissed her back.

After they had calmed down, he pushed onto his hands and pulled out, sitting back on his knees for a moment before moving to lay down next to her.

"Did you…?" he trailed off, looking at her in a concerned manner. She paused for a moment, ready to lie, but deciding against it. She had done enough lying that night.

"Not that time." she gave him a reassuring smile, "But it's okay. I did earlier." she moved forward to kiss him sweetly, not wanting that disappointed look to linger. She moved to lay the side of her face on his chest, fingers intertwining with his. Usually, she wasn't big on cuddling, but she wanted to be as close to him as possible for as long as possible.

"I'm sorry." he apologized. She propped herself up on her hands to look at him,

"It's okay, it was your first time. You did great." she patted his chest. He gave her an unamused look,

"You're just being nice." he sighed and she shook her head,

"No, it was really great." she said genuinely, "I really enjoyed myself." It was the truth. It might not have lasted very long, but it was probably the best sex she had ever had. Steve took his time, appreciated her and made sure she felt good. It was the most intimate she had ever been with someone. "How was it for you?" she asked curiously. He let out a laugh,

"It was fucking incredible. I think that was clear." she grinned at him. She lowered her head back on his chest.

"Well, a girl's got to make sure."

"Just wish it could've...you know...lasted a little longer." he sighed, disappointed in himself. She smiled against his skin,

"That comes with practice." she assured him. Steve let out another sigh and wrapped his arm around her.

"You've clearly had a lot of it." he pointed out. She shrugged against him, but didn't answer, "What was your first time like?" he asked her, making her think back several years.

"I was fifteen? Fourteen? I can't remember, but I know it was with this guy at a New Year's party. It was awkward and messy and uncomfortable." she rattled off, laughing a little as she remembered what happened before her eyes went wide, "I was on top." he gave her a confused look and she explained, "Girls are not usually on top their first time because...relaxation of certain parts of her is really important the first few times and that position isn't really conducive to it." he laughed lightly at how medicinal she sounded when explaining it to him,

"Then why…?"

"I don't know!" Q cried out, hands covering her face with a laugh, "God, I don't even remember his name." she dropped her hands to his chest and looked at him with a grin. He raised his eyebrows at her, not expecting her revelation. Even still she was surprising him. She laughed again shaking her head, "Don't give me that look, I was a completely different person then. That was literally half my life ago." he stared at her, completely stunned for a moment before bursting out into laughter. Another one of his full belly laughs. She could get used to the sound of them, "What?!" she laughed out.

"You've been having sex for half your life, and until a few minutes ago, I was a ninety-five year old virgin." she burst into giggles at his realization, burying her face into his chest.

"I can't believe I slept with such an old man." she mumbled against his chest. He laughed again, leaning down to kiss the top of her head,

"Ow." he pretended to be hurt, but she ignored him. His hands wove through her hair, gently massaging her scalp. They fell quiet for a moment, both thinking about what just occurred.

"You called me Steve." he said after a moment of silence. Her brows furrowed and she looked up to see that he was looking down at her.

"I did?" she asked, trying to think back as to when that happened. But her post sex brain was never good at remembering what she said during the act itself - those damn endorphins.

"Mhm." he hummed. She felt her cheeks flush and she looked away from him.

"I'm sorry. I - I didn't mean to. It must've just slipped out." she tried to explain and apologize. His arm came to wrap around her shoulders,

"No, no, I liked it." he assured her, "I'd actually prefer it if you called me Steve." he admitted, raising his eyebrows a bit. She met his eyes and made a face, nodding to herself.

"I'll keep that in mind." she responded. He gave her a little grin and nodded back at her, pressing her closer to his chest.

Another moment of quiet passed, his thumb rubbing softly against her skin. The air was thick with sex and smelled the same. But he wanted to live in the moment forever; it was utterly perfect. He had never felt so close to Q before - literally and figuratively.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save Fury." he whispered. She reactively tensed up against his chest. He didn't want to ruin the moment, but he needed to apologize to her. He should've been more aware of everything going on. But by the time he figured it out, it was too late.

"It's okay." she said, voice feeling thick, "You did everything you could." she swallowed back the lump in her throat before moving to get up from her position.

"Where are you going?" he asked, knowing he said the wrong thing - that's why she was leaving. She paused and gave him a look along with a little smile.

"To pee." she responded, "Can't very well tell my gyno that Captain America gave me a UTI, can I?" she teased, making him roll his eyes, even though he didn't quite know what an UTI was. She grinned at him before moving off the bed and to the bathroom.

While she was peeing, Steve discarded of the used condom and tried to straighten up the best he could. He put his boxers back on before sneaking into the kitchen to grab the drinks they had discarded when everything started happening. There was a box of Lucky Charms in the cabinet that he grabbed as well, having a feeling that she was going to be hungry. He went back into the bedroom as she came out of the bathroom. She gave him a smile and he returned it, feeling warm and happy inside.

Taking the cereal box, she climbed back onto the bed, settling against the headboard with him next to her. She slouched down a bit so she could rest her head against his shoulder. The cereal box was in between them, letting them both grab handfuls whenever they wanted to. He sipped at his water while she quietly separated her marshmallows from the rice pieces. At one point, he heard her laugh to herself.

"What's so funny?" he asked, making her lift up her head to look at him. She grinned at him and shook her head,

"Nothing. I just...I deflowered Captain America." she laughed to herself, "That's something no one else can claim. Ever." she swiped her hand through the air to make her point. He let out an amused scoff and rolled his eyes.

"That's what you're thinking about right now?" she shrugged, making a face. He grinned at her before shaking his head.

"What are you thinking about right now?" she asked after a moment. He looked back at her, raising his eyebrows up a bit. She nudged him, "Come on, say what's in your head." He tilted his head to the side and made a face. There were a lot of things in his head, but he decided to go with the one that wouldn't be a complete mood ruiner.

"Well, I just realized we had sex and I don't even know your first name." he pointed out with a half smile and making her laugh again.

"Do you know how many people I've had sex with and didn't know their first name?" she gave him a look and he shook his head.

"Not the point." he said matter of factly with a pointed look at her. She held his gaze and slowly chewed the marshmallows in her mouth.

"This is really important to you, huh?" she concluded and he nodded. She took in a breath and then let it out slowly, "Fine." she shifted on the bed so she was facing him fully, legs extending over his, "My full name is Quincy James Proctor." she admitted. His brows furrowed; she had to be messing with him. What parents would name their daughter two male names? "My parents thought I was a boy - they were certain of it." she explained, answering his silent question, "So they decided to name me after two men on either side of the family who had passed - very morbid… Imagine their surprise when I turned out to be a girl."

"They didn't think to choose a different name?" Steve asked. She shook her head,

"Nope. They already told everyone. People sent in monogrammed things. I was stuck with it." she explained.

"So why go by Q?" he asked, still semi-confused, but understanding a little more as to why she went by her initial. She shrugged,

"I tried a bunch of different nicknames. Quinn, Q-J, Proctor...then Q just sorta stuck." she shrugged again and then she let out a little sigh. A moment passed, then her brow furrowed slightly and she looked at him, "You called me something else, the other night on our fake date…" she trailed off, "Queenie." she repeated the nickname that accidentally slipped out earlier in the week as a little grin tugged at her face. He felt his face flush and he shook his head,

"Yeah, I don't - I'm sorry, I don't know why I called you that." he sounded like she had when she was apologizing for calling him Steve. She rolled forward, moving so that she was closer to him,

"Don't apologize." she picked up his arm so she could wrap it around herself, "I liked it. No one's ever given me a nickname before. They've all been self-given." he laughed a little, then nodded to himself.

"Alright… Queenie it is." he agreed, liking the way it sounded. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head as she snuggled closer to him.

They stayed like that for a long time. Holding each other close, sharing soft kisses and talking quietly to each other about everything and anything. She traced patterns along his skin with her finger while he told her stories about his childhood and his time with the Howling Commandos. Ones he had never told her before, ones that made her laugh. He pressed soft kisses to her shoulders as she told him her own stories...finally telling him why she had ended up in prison. It wasn't what he expected, but it was clear that she was ashamed by it so he didn't press on it further.

At one point, he looked down to see that Q had fallen asleep in his arms. He moved her hair out of her face and watched her sleep for a moment. For the past few hours, time had stayed still. Besides his apology, there was really no mention of what had happened earlier in the night. In fact, it was strange to think that it had only been one night. Admitting his feelings to her in the Thai restaurant felt like it had happened ages ago. There had been too many ups and downs throughout the night, but he was choosing to focus on the ups.

With everything that happened, he dreaded the moment he had to tell her what had really happened with Fury in his apartment. That SHIELD had apparently been compromised and what Fury's last words were. He didn't want to tell her. Hell, he wasn't even sure he should tell her. What if she was compromised too? No. No. He hated himself for even thinking that Q - his Q, would ever be compromised. He knew her. For once in his life, he was sure he truly knew her. She couldn't be compromised. Not now.

In the middle of the night, Q woke with a start. Still a little groggy, she realized she had fallen asleep in Steve's arms. Looking up at him, she saw that he was asleep against her pillows - completely relaxed, which was a surprising, but welcome sight. Being Captain America, he held so much responsibility - some self-given, some given to him by others. It was rare for him to look so calm and at peace, normally weighed down by his past or his future or even his present. She wished she could find a way for him to be able to be as relaxed as he looked in his sleep while he was awake.

But that could never be the case. Especially considering all that had happened earlier in the evening. All the chaos with Fury that had happened right in his apartment. He would be carrying that guilt just as long as he had been carrying the rest. She knew she could never do enough to help Captain America, but Steve Rogers? She would carry every single one of his problems if it meant he could have just one more peaceful night.

A sudden beeping cut through the room, waking both of them up even though it felt like they had just managed to fall asleep. She groaned, rolling her body off of his chest to turn her alarm off. He rubbed his eyes and let out a sigh as she silenced her alarm.

"Sorry." she mumbled, still half asleep as she rolled back onto her side. He rolled onto his so that their faces were mere centimeters apart from each other. She stuck her hands under her head and he reached out to move her hair away from her face.

"It's okay." he sighed. She took in a breath, pulling her lower lip in between her teeth,

"So...last night," she prompted with a slight eyebrow raise. He copied her expression, waiting to see where she was going with it, "I didn't mean to...pressure you into anything or make you feel like you had to do what we did." she admitted, gaze shifting down a bit, clearly a little upset with herself. He lifted her chin up gently so that she had to look at him,

"I didn't feel pressured at all. It felt right with you." he said seriously. The corners of her mouth twitched up and she nodded, pressing her face back into the pillow a bit.

"It felt right with you too." Q agreed, making him smile. He moved forward to give her a soft kiss, feeling her smile against him.

"You gonna go on your run?" she asked when she pulled back. He ran his hands down her bare shoulders and made a face.

"I don't think so." he looked down at her, "Kinda wanna just stay here for a little bit longer, if that's okay." she lifted her head up and gave him a soft smile,

"Of course it's okay." she moved forward to kiss him gently. He kissed her back and returned the smile.

Steve wasn't sure how it was going to be in the morning. From what Q told him, she always kicked her overnight guest out as soon as both of them were finished. But he had stayed. She let him stay overnight - even fell asleep in his arms. And she looked happy to see him.

"Say what's in your head." she prompted, noticing that he was staring off into space. He met her eyes before reaching out to bring her so she was laying with her head on his chest. He sat up a bit more so that both of them were more comfortable.

"Just thinking about how things have changed." he admitted. She lifted her head up to look at him with raised her eyebrows and he continued, "I mean, did you ever think that...this was where we would end up?" he gestured to her bedroom and she let out a laugh.

"Certainly not, no." she smiled at him before settling back down on his chest, "But I'm happy we did." he looked back down at her, moving to kiss her shoulder. "Are you?" she asked after a moment, almost carefully, even though she had mentioned it earlier.

"I am." he said truthfully, "For the first time, in a long time, I really am, Queenie." A big smile broke out across her face and she bit her bottom lip. Her fingers trailed around his skin while his fingers softly played with her hair, "Are you hungry?" he asked after a moment. She let out a little scoff, looking at him as if he was stupid.

"You really have to ask me that?" he laughed a lightly at her answer.

"Breakfast sandwiches, okay?" he asked, raising his eyebrows a bit. She fixed him with the same look, "Got it." he continued before moving to kiss her again. She kissed him back before he moved her to the side, gently setting her down against the pillows.

Q shifted against her pillows, watching as he dressed himself. Before he left, he moved over to her side of the bed and quickly kissed her. She couldn't help but giggle at the motion, chewing down on thumbnail. She was basking in her post-sex glow. A happy feeling spread across her whole body, from her head to her toes. She had never felt this way after sex before. She usually just felt dirty and gross and sometimes even regretful. But there was no ounce of regret in her body. Instead, there was a smile on her face that felt like it could be permanent and a sense of pure joy running through her veins. An unfamiliar feeling, but a welcome one.

The night had changed so fast; one moment he was professing his feelings for her outside a Thai restaurant, the next he was yelling at her about how angry he was that she lied to her and it all ended with the two of them in bed together. Never in her wildest dreams could she predict that outcome.

While Steve was gone, she cleaned up a little. She grabbed the empty cereal box and their empty drinks, padding into the kitchen to dump them into the trash. Her graphs and charts and pro/con lists were scattered about on the table and she grinned to herself. It all seemed so silly that she had spent so much time on all of it. If anything, everything that happened with Steve was a little bit of a wake-up call. She didn't need to rely on her graphs for every single choice in her life. It didn't mean her life would fall apart. She could relax a bit. Some risks were good. Some.

Steve walked back into Q's apartment with two breakfast sandwiches, a coffee for him and a hot chocolate for her. He found her still in her bedroom - wearing a tank top (but nothing else) and scrolling through her phone. When he came into the bedroom, she looked up from her phone and gave him a happy smile. Tossing the device to the side, she sat up a bit more in her bed and pulled her legs up to her chest.

"Hey." she greeted him, resting her cheek on her knee, "How's Al?" he gave her a grin, handing her a breakfast sandwich and her hot chocolate. He slipped off his shoes before climbing back onto bed with her. She moved so that she could sit close to him and he instinctively wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"He's good. Told me to tell you hi." Satisfied with that answer, she snuggled down and started to unwrap her sandwich. They ate in silence for a few minutes, both enjoying each other's company.

Last night had changed everything. Steve kept his arm around her, thumb slowly rubbing circles around her skin. It was so easy and natural to be physical with her now. Q leaned her head against his chest, happy that she had let him stay the night. She never let any of her sexual partners stay overnight before, but it just felt right to have him stay. She felt safe and protected and she had a fleeting thought that it could be more than just a sex thing.

Weirdly enough, she could almost imagine getting into a relationship with Steve, which was...totally unprofessional. Though, last night had made it perfectly clear that there was no need for her to be professional anymore. At least not when they weren't in the Triskelion.

Steve offered her a bite of his sandwich, which she took, and she gave him a satisfied smile. He leaned forward to kiss her softly, then moved to kiss her nose before sitting back against the headboard. For now, she decided to keep her thought about the future of their relationship to herself. She didn't need to freak him out. All she wanted was to live in the happy, post-sex moment.

Of course, that couldn't last for long. Their phones dinged at exactly the same time, popping the little bubble they had been existing in for past few hours. She reached for hers while he dug into his pants for his. Both had the same message alert from SHIELD, requesting them to get to the Triskelion as soon as possible for a meeting with Secretary Pierce.

In an instant, reality snapped back into motion. Both of them remembered what happened last night besides their time in bed. Fury had been murdered in cold blood, right in the middle of Steve's apartment. Steve looked over at where she was chewing on her bottom lip, eyes on her phone, and Fury's dying words echoed in the back of his head again - reminding him not to trust anyone. He took in a breath, a knot beginning to form in the pit of his stomach; he needed to tell her. He worried that she would be one of the people Fury was warning him about. But he knew her well enough now that he would be able to figure out how genuine her reaction was.

"We should probably get going, shouldn't we?" she murmured before looking up at him. Her brow furrowed at the look on his face, reaching up with her free hand to smooth her hand over his skin. "What's wrong?" she asked, sitting up to face him fully and crossing her legs Indian style. Steve took in a breath and looked down at his phone, trying to figure out how to say what he needed to. She reached for his hand, holding it in hers and her thumb ran over his knuckles.

"There's something I didn't tell you about when Fury was in my apartment. Something I didn't tell Agent Halliday either." he said carefully. He paused for a moment, swallowing and then meeting her look. She looked so worried and concerned, "Before he was shot...Fury told me that SHIELD...had been compromised." he managed out, eyes trained on her face, looking for any sign of reaction. Her brows furrowed and she pulled herself up a bit straighter, "And then he told me not to trust anyone." he finished, swallowing the lump in his throat. She pulled away from him slightly, eyes widening just a bit as her mouth dropped open a little. Then her brow furrowed again and she pulled herself up straight before nodding to herself.

Q swallowed hard, her gaze dropping from his and she nodded a few times - maybe a few too many times, but her brain was beginning to short circuit. Fury had told Steve that SHIELD, her home, had been compromised. And on top of that, that he couldn't trust anyone. Anyone. She wondered if that included her.

Quickly, she licked her lips, eyes searching his face for any signs of...really anything to tell her that he was kidding, but his face was set and his eyes were serious. She reached out to grasp his face in between her hands, making it so his gaze wouldn't leave hers.

"You can trust me, Steve." she reminded him firmly, "...I trust you. And that means more to me than anything." she left off the even 'I love you' part; even though it was true, he didn't need to think she was in love with him. She rarely trusted anyone, having learned the hard way that it was safer that way, so trusting him was a big deal for her. He stared at her for a moment more before reaching up to wrap his hand around her wrist.

"I know. I know." he gave her what he wanted to be a reassuring smile, but it just felt forced. He took in a breath, trying to calm himself down; he trusted her. After everything they had been through - even in just the past several hours, he really did, "I trust you too, Queenie." she relaxed visibly. Bringing him in for a searing kiss, she tried to pour all of what was left unsaid into it. He kissed her back for a moment before she pulled back. Her forehead rested against his and she nodded a bit.

"We're gonna be fine, okay? We'll just go in there, talk to Pierce about last night and then make a game-plan." he gave her a small smile and nodded; she always had a plan, even when she didn't mean to. At least he knew she would always be on his side.

From the moment they walked into the main lobby of the building, Q could tell something had shifted at the Triskelion. What Steve had told her weighed in the back of her head, but she tried not to focus on it. The Director of SHIELD had just been murdered not even twenty-four hours earlier, of course there would be a palpable difference in how people moved around and interacted. Not everyone could be compromised...right?

Before they reached the elevators, three agents approached them. A few STRIKE team members flocked them and Steve held out his arm in front of her - to stop her or protect her, Q wasn't sure.

"Captain Rogers," one of the agents greeted him, "if you'll follow me. Secretary Pierce will see you now." he gestured for Steve to follow. Both him and Q stepped forward, only for the agent to stop her,

"Agent Proctor, I'm sorry, but you won't be able to join us." Steve and Q exchanged a look; they had never been forced apart like this. Usually, if she needed to, she waited in the hall outside the room, or Dawson would be with him, nothing like this. "If you'll follow Agent Jones, he'll take you to a waiting area."

As Q watched Steve walk away with the other agent, a lump formed in the back of her throat. This was bad.


	38. get the hell out of dodge

Chapter 38: get the hell out of dodge  
In front of him, the main screen was split up into four, equal, smaller screens. Each quadrant showed a different angle of the room, but still showing the young lady who sat in the center of the long rectangular table. She seemed to be the main focus of the cameras. He was able to use the arrows on the board that was attached to the screen to select a different quadrant. That way he could enlarge a specific section and have it take over the whole screen. This was useful. He would be able to see more details.

While he knew how to work what sat in front of him, the Man didn't understand this technology. He was wowed by it; He had never seen anything like it. It was smaller than a television, but had the same properties as one. It wasn't a typewriter, but again, it had the same properties as one. Almost like the two had been combined to make one - but was it a smaller television or a sleeker designed typewriter? He wanted to pick it apart and see what it was made of. Foolish. This was a tool. A tool designed to help him find answers he needed in order to take down his enemy. Nothing more.

Shaking his head slightly, he forced the Man back into the darkness. He was not allowed to try to come out during such times. He knew this. Stupid. The Man was never one to listen well and always seemed to try and fight to have control. Idiot. That's why They always let him be in charge. He knew how to get the job done, knew how not to be distracted by the Man, - he was Their greatest asset.

He returned his attention back to the four screens. Back to the women in the professional looking outfit. In each of them, simultaneously, she reached for the glass of water in front of her. Quickly, she chugged it, then poured herself another glass before repeating the action. She was nervous. Her leg bounced in a sporadic rhythm and her fingers drummed against the table. The sound was beginning to pound against his mind, similar to the dull thud of one of the various contraptions They put him in when the Man acted out. Annoying.

His eyes scanned the keys on the board for a way to mute the noise she was making. The Man buzzed in the back of his head, carefully offering up a small memory of a radio with a symbol on it that was used for the volume. There was a similar symbol on the board in front of him and, after he pressed it, the thumping of her fingers stopped. It had worked. Useful.

He memorized the button he pushed; he would need to unmute the sound again later. Currently, it was just the young woman in the room. Soon she would be joined by one of Them in order to be questioned about his mark. The man he had seen on the roof after completing his mission. It seemed she was unaware of the cameras in the room - or maybe she just didn't care enough. Her mind seemed to be elsewhere anyway. Her eyes kept flicking to the door, her hands twisting against each other. She clearly didn't know what was going on. Odd.

The Man was nudging at him from just under the surface. He tried to silence Him; he needed to focus on the young woman on the screen, but the Man wouldn't let him. He couldn't divulge in whatever the Man was trying to tell him. He was supposed to be focusing on more important matters, not these silly games. But still the Man wouldn't retreat.

Because she's familiar.

No, she wasn't. Not to him. He didn't know anyone except Them and the Man, who wasn't usually this annoying. While he was in charge, the Man was muted, never made a fuss and just accepted what was happening. Because He was weak. There was a reason They kept him in charge. And now He was trying to take control? All because of some woman? Goddamnit.

The plates in the metal arm shifted as it moved on it's own accord. The Man had figured out a way in. Before He could do anything stupid or reckless, he shoved the Man back into his place, where He belonged. Extending the arm again, the plates whirred and moved as it reacted to him. Good. He was back in charge. Why was the Man being so stubborn?

Because she's familiar.

God he was infuriating. He couldn't wait until They finalized the means to erase the Man forever. There was no need for Him. He was just a distraction, a weak chain in the link, a soft, sympathetic being. All He had ever done was cry out and beg for Them to stop. He couldn't take the pain, which was why when They brought him out of the Chamber, They made sure He was silenced before He could try anything or realize what was happening. Just a few simple words was all it took.

His flesh hand twitched. The Man managed to slip through again. Fuck. He took in a deep breath, figuring he might as well indulge Him. Maybe He would remember His place once this need was taken care of. They would never need to know about it. About the slip up. He had learned from past mistakes what They would do if He showed His face. If He tried to do anything stupid, tried to take over in any other way, he could shut Him down quickly and forcefully. So he watched the Man control his hand, moving his fingers to the arrow keys.

One of the screens went full sized, the main camera that showed all her features. The Man used the keys to zoom in on the young woman's face. She had sharp features, deep brown eyes that had a bit of sagging skin under them from lack of sleep. Her dark hair was pulled back away from her face, but part of it fell down over her shoulders in gentle waves.

A memory from the Man broke through the surface. It was fuzzy, just like most of His memories. He was useless even when He was trying to prove a point. It was a girl's face - it could of been any girl, not the young woman who was on the screen. The Man thought she was familiar, someone from his past. She wasn't. The past was over seventy years ago. Not that He knew that though. Idiot.

Time was an unnecessary thing to him. It didn't matter or mean anything. All that mattered was what he did for Them. He understood time had passed; there were plenty of things that had changed each time he was brought out from the Chamber. But he didn't pay attention to them. They made sure to drill in everything he needed to know. Literally. That way, he only had one goal: the mission.

Taking back control, he forced the Man away. That was enough of that. He needed to focus on the task They wanted him to complete. If he didn't...well, he didn't plan on that happening. The Man was always the one fucking up and forcing Them to use the Chamber or the Machine.

On the screen, one of Them walked into the room. The young woman sat up straighter in her seat, but her face relaxed. She trusted the man who had stepped in. Good. She would be more unsuspecting when it came to what he asked. Yet, the Man was doing everything in his power to break free; he wanted to warn her. Why had this young woman suddenly pulled Him from the deep hole They had locked him in?

For the past seventy years, He had been in there. A few times, in the beginning, He would try and fight Them. Try and stop Them from doing what they ultimately succeeded in doing. But that just caused pain and suffering. It had taken Him a few punishments to learn that lesson, but nevertheless, He learned it. He became quiet and agreeable, only stirring here and there. They were pleased with the results. And soon, there was barely any sign of the Man anymore. Just the Soldier.

But after what happened on the roof - after that man had tried to attack him, it was like the Man had woken up. They had been able to subdue Him for a long while, but this young woman had made Him more determined. Damnit.

This would cause trouble. He needed to pay attention to what was happening in the room, but the Man was becoming incredibly annoying as He continued to poke at the back of his mind. If he gave into the Man's urges and shut the device off, he wouldn't know what he needed to. If he continued watching the video, the Man wouldn't shut up. Choosing an option would cause either trouble or frustration.

The Man was becoming more and more irritating. As the young woman talked, He kept offering up different blurry memories of a girl who looked and sounded similar to the young woman on the screen. As much as he tried to ignore Him and keep Him repressed, his patience was beginning to wear thin. And he didn't have much patience to begin with.

Shutting his eyes shut tightly, he tried to block out the memories. But they just came faster and faster - like a slideshow. Visual images coupled with distorted sounds that didn't quite match up with the memory itself. "Hey! Save some for me!" A tire swing. Spinning skirts. "Ow! That's too tight!" Birthday cake. A butterfly hairpin. "You're a real piece of work, you know that?"

The plates of the metal arm moved smoothly into a fist as he reacted to the Man's incessant flood of memories. In one fluid motion, he struck the screen of the device with the metal fist. The screen crackled and hissed as he pulled his fist from the hole he had created. The electricity from the device ran up the metal arm, causing a buzz to vibrate through it. He shook it off; he had felt worse pain before. The screen had gone dark. There was no sign of the young woman anymore. The Man fell silent at the realization, the memories fading. Finally.

Before he could refocus, two pairs of rough hands grabbed him and yanked him up from his chair. They said nothing, but he knew what was coming. And he knew better than to fight against Them. Even though he had gotten the Man to shut up, he didn't complete the mission. Failure was not an option. At least what was coming next would shut the Man up for a long while.

Meanwhile, in the room that definitely wasn't a waiting area, Q was trying not to freak out. Agents had taken Steve off to go talk to Secretary Pierce, which didn't seem good at all. Plus, everything he had said to her earlier in the morning was beginning to weigh on her. She had never wanted to leave the Triskelion more than in that moment. Except she couldn't. That would raise even more suspicions than her staying. She needed to play their game until she was back with Steve and somewhere where it was safe.

After several minutes of waiting, the door finally opened. Halliday stepped through and shut the door behind him, giving her a small smile. He had a notepad, file folder and pen in one hand, using his free hand to unbutton his suit jacket.

"Halliday," she breathed out, surprisingly relieved that he had walked through the door, "What the hell is going on?"

"There's no need to freak out, Proctor." he assured her as he took the seat across from her, "Just came in here to ask you a few questions."

"About what?" she asked, brow furrowing in slight confusion. She didn't realize she needed to be questioned about anything. Halliday gave her a tight smile as he flipped open the folder.

"About Project Van Winkle." he answered, spinning the folder over to show her that it contained the same materials that she had been given six months before. Compared to where they were now, six months ago seemed like such a long time.

"Why would you need to know anything about that?" she asked, still confused. Fury had assigned the project, not Halliday and he hadn't been looped in on anything during the project. Not even fully redacted summary reports.

"Because we will be taking you off the project." he said matter of factly, spinning the folder back around to face him.

"What?" she leaned forward, surprised and even more confused than she had been when he first started talking. "Why?" There was no reason for her to be taken off the project at such a critical time. Now, more than ever, was it important for her to be with Steve while they figured out the whole "SHIELD being compromised" thing.

"I need you to tell me everything about your time with Captain Rogers." he ignored her question, moving on, "We have the audio files from the time you spent in his apartment," he glanced up at her with a knowing look. She tried ignore the sudden rock in her stomach when she realized he had heard some of the things she had said, "But we'd also like to get your personal insight. Please." he gestured to her, indicating that it was her time to talk.

Something was off. She sat back in her seat, folding her hands on the table as she let her eyes travel over the agent in front of her. Her former boss. She may have only spent six months with Steve, but she had spent several years with the man sitting across the table. She knew him like the back of her hand.

His appearance was calm, too calm. His face was a little pinkish and his nostrils flared on their on accord. And the way he talked. It was tight and straight to the point - questions were ignored because he didn't want to get caught off guard by something he wasn't prepared for. He used a lot of we's and failed to make it personal. He was lying.

"What's really going on, Halliday?" she asked, leaning forward more. He immediately leaned back.

"We just need to know everything about your project." he said matter of factly, not meeting her eye. She stared at him until it became uncomfortable and he finally looked up - then quickly looked away and cleared his throat.

"Agent Proctor, I would suggest working with us instead of trying to figure out if there was something else happening." he tilted his head to the side before meeting her eyes again, "We're on the same team here, remember?" he raised his eyebrows up a bit. They stared at each other for a long time as she watched his skin return to normal and his Adam's apple stop bobbing up and down. He was calmer, more under control. She had lost her chance.

"Fine." she sighed out, "Everything you need to know about Project Insight has been documented from the moment we began." she stood up from her chair, "If you would just let me head down to my office and grab my packets -"

"I'm afraid that isn't possible." he stood up as well, hand out as if to stop her from going anywhere. She paused, looking from his hand, then to his face.

"Well, why not?" she asked, arms crossing over her chest, "What aren't you telling me?" Steve's words were stuck in her head like a bad song: SHIELD had been compromised. Her eyes darted over to the door and then back to where he was standing in front of her. If she needed to, she could take him. She was scrappy and all bones - a nicely landed elbow in the face would be enough.

"Proctor," he took in a deep breath, "I'm sorry to tell you this, but -" before he could finish his thought, the door suddenly swung open.

"Yo, Halliday," Dawson raised his eyebrows up at the other agent, "They need you up at ops." he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and threw a casual thumb over his shoulder. Halliday sighed before nodding, eyes darting over to Q before landing back on Dawson,

"Keep an eye on her." he said, pointing the notepad in his hand at the other man before walking past him. Dawson nodded, but didn't say anything.

Once Halliday left, Dawson quickly crossed the room and grabbed her by her elbow, "Come on, we gotta go." he said urgently, voice low. She pulled her elbow out from his grasp, fixing him with a hard look,

"Not until you tell me what the hell is going on. And what the hell was that!?" she flung her hand toward where Halliday left. Dawson sighed, shoulders slumping down before his hand came to rub at his forehead,

"If you had just listened to me at the hospital -"

"Oh, so now this is somehow my fault!?" she cut him off. She was not about to be blamed for doing her job.

"This really isn't a good time!" he yelled back at her. Her eyes went wide and she shook her head, leaning back and throwing her arms wide,

"When is a good time!?" she cried out.

"Oh my God!" Dawson shouted out, slicing his hand through the air before taking in a deep breath. He set his stance, one hand on his hip, another pointed directly at her as he leaned forward a bit, "SHIELD's been compromised by Hydra, there's rogue agents - high up rogue agents - and they're after Rogers which means they're after you." he talked quickly and tightly, pushing his hand forward and toward her. She didn't respond. He knew SHIELD had been compromised as well. How had he figured it out? Before she could ask, he interrupted her, "Which means we have to get the hell out of here!" he shouted out, eyes going wide and brows raising up. She jumped at the volume of his voice and then nodded quickly.

"Yep, yeah, got it, understood." she gathered up her things, ignoring Dawson's muttering about how he didn't know how she had made it this far. But before they left the room, she paused, "How do I know I can trust you?" she asked, making him groan.

"I'm the one breaking you out, aren't I?" he asked back, widening his eyes a bit before gesturing toward the door, "Now? Can we go?" he asked, exasperated by her. She nodded and gave him a small smile before walking out of the room.

Falling into step with her, they walked down the hall together and he kept close - glancing around at everyone they past. She had never been this close to him before and for the first time since she met him, he looked nervous and anxious. His fingers were playing with the edge of his blazer and he had been chewing on the inside of his cheek ever since they left the room.

"How did you find out that SHIELD was compromised?" she asked quietly, trying to have him talk so he wouldn't gnaw a hole in his cheek.

"Fury told me." he responded, voice quiet, but serious. She did a double take, looking at him with wide eyes. Fury had told two people before her. Why didn't he tell her? Did he not trust her?

"When?" she whispered.

"Before whatever the fuck happened at Rogers' apartment." he explained, eyes shifting over to an agent they passed on their way to the main lobby. He sighed, "I don't know much, but I know we have to get out of here." She nodded and looked ahead,

"And what about Steve?" she asked. He stopped in his tracks, getting her attention. She turned back to see that there was a smirk on his face and his eyebrows were raised. There were zero signs of the anxiety and nervousness she had witness moments earlier.

"Steve?" he asked, "What happened to Captain Rogers?" he pushed his tongue out into his cheek and placed his hands on his hips. Q made a face and raised her hand up, trying to be casual.

"Well, it's his name." she shrugged and Dawson laughed.

"Holy shit, you slept with him!" he rolled forward on his toes, clearly excited about what he figured out. She tried to control her reaction but could feel her face beginning to flush.

"Wha-no, no, that would be completely unprofessional." she forced out a laugh before falling serious, "Don't we have more important matters to take care of?" she crossed her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrows up as she quickly changed the subject. The smile fell off his face and transformed into an unamused look.

"Fine, but we're talking about this later." he pointed at her as he walked by.

"Oh, yeah, right after we figure out how to escape from a compromised SHIELD." she grumbled out before following after him. "So what about Steve?" she circled back to her first question. He sighed, waving his hand in the air,

"He can take care of himself." Now, it was her turn to stop walking. He walked a few more paces before he realized it and turned around with a heavy sigh, "We have to goooo." he dragged the word out for emphasis, swinging his arms toward the lobby that was through the double doors they were a few steps away from. She crossed her arms over her chest,

"Not without Steve." she said matter of factly.

"He can. Take care. Of himself." he answered her, pinching his fingers together and motioning them down with every sentence. "He's the world's first superhero. He'll be fine." he raised his arms up and out.

"We have to find him." she shook her head, "Who knows what Pierce will do with him. Or who he has after him." she started walking again, exiting out into the main lobby. "I'm not leaving without him." she said seriously with a glance over her shoulder at Dawson.

Turning back front, she started for the elevators. There were so many people walking in so many different directions. Almost all of them were unaware of what was going on. She took in a breath and tried to act as normal as she could; there were probably people in the lobby who did know what was going on and she didn't want to cause them to think twice when they noticed her.

Suddenly, Dawson grabbed her arm and yanked her back right as something came crashing through the glass ceiling of the main lobby. She held up her arms to block her face from any shards of glass that came flying through the air as whatever came out of the sky landed with a hard, loud thump. Screams echoed around the area, there was the ringing sound of metal hitting the ground at an intense speed and, for a split second, Q swore her heart stopped. She looked down to see that it wasn't something, but it was someone.

"Steve!?" she cried out, arms dropping to her sides. He let out a groan, lying against his shield for a moment as if he needed to catch his breath. Then he curled his fist and used it to push himself up. Glass fell off his body as he stood up, but he paid no mind to it. He glanced around where he had landed, eyes falling on her for a split second before shifting away. She watched him take in a deep breath before he started to run off toward the stairwell that led to the garage without even another glance in her direction.

"What the fuck just happened?!" she yelled out, splaying her hands out and shaking them a bit while speaking for everyone loitering in the lobby after Steve fell through the ceiling. Again, Dawson's hand came around her arm.

"We gotta get the hell out of Dodge." he quoted before tugging her toward the main doors. Q kept her eyes on where Steve had landed amongst the glass from the ceiling; things just seemed to be getting worse.

Things were certainly getting worse for Steve. After being separated from Q and then during his conversation with Secretary Pierce, he had was confident that something that was off, which made him question Pierce's motives for having such a conversation with him. It's not like they had ever had one before the events of the night prior. And what Pierce had said, didn't seem right to him. Steve tried to be as casual as possible, telling him what he wanted to hear, but not telling him everything.

And he thought he got away with it. Until he stepped on the elevator. He was headed to Ops to try and find Dawson - figuring he would know where Q was being held, when Rumlow and some of his STRIKE team stepped on the elevator with him. Then some agents stepped on as well, then even more STRIKE team members. It became pretty clear to him that it was a set up. And while Rumlow said it wasn't personal, Steve didn't believe him. Not only did he have...something with Q, he also never really liked Rumlow. It seemed like he had figured that out.

Still, he managed to get out of the situation by jumping out of the elevator and plummeting through the ceiling of the main lobby. Was it his smartest idea? No. But it got him out of the elevator before the compromised STRIKE team could get to him first.

He somehow managed to time it so he landed right at Q's feet. If he had been a few seconds earlier - he probably would've landed on top of her. She looked shocked, confused and a little scared all at once. He should've said something, anything, but he couldn't linger and put her in more danger than he already had. So he ran off.

That was stupid of him. He should've at least taken her with him. Grabbed her hand, picked her up, threw her over his shoulder - really anything to get her out of the Triskelion and out of danger. Was it really safer that he left her there? Maybe. She wouldn't be a fugitive from the one home she had really had. Or what was left of it. But now he was worried about what would happen to her since he had left her. Would SHIELD use her to their own personal gain? They probably were doing that already, but now it could turn into something worse. He really shouldn't have left her there.

Pushing his worry about her aside, he focused on his plan of action. He had escaped the Triskelion, which was the most important step. He had to figure out what to do next - like where to go. Not to his apartment; that was a crime scene and most likely the first place SHIELD would look for him. He could go to Q's. Since she was still at the Triskelion, it would be empty and she had told him no one really knew where she lived. That would be safe for a bit.

While he knew he couldn't stay there for long, it gave him a place to nail down his plan. He had to retrieve the flash drive Fury had given him before he died. There had to be something on there that was important. Steve had hidden it in the vending machine at the hospital and he was pretty positive it would still be there. But before he could go anywhere, he had to ditch his uniform. That made him stand out like a sore thumb.

Q's apartment didn't offer much. Her closet was all full of clothes she usually wore, but there was a duffel bag in the back. Thinking he might as well see if there was anything useful in there, he grabbed it and opened it up. Inside, there were a pair of sweatpants, a zip up hoodie, a white t-shirt and a pair of sneakers all stuffed inside. It looked like something similar to what Frankie had worn during his visit. He pulled them out and quickly began to redress himself, silently thanking him for forgetting to pack his laundry.

Before he left for the hospital, he spotted Q's reading glasses on the bedside table. He remembered something Dawson had said about how no one recognized Superman because he was wearing glasses. Without a moment's pause, he swiped her glasses from the table and put them in his pocket as he was leaving.


	39. wasting time

Reaching over, he put his hand on top of her knee to stop her restless leg. Q pulled her thumbnail out of her mouth long enough to give him an apologetic smile, which he ignored. She stuck her thumbnail back into her mouth, gnawing on it with her teeth as she looked back out the window. Dawson was driving...somewhere. She didn't know where, all she knew was that he practically tossed her into his Tesla and sped away from the Triskelion without a word.

"Why didn't Fury tell me about the breach?" she asked quietly. It had been on her mind ever since Steve told her about it. Dawson quickly glanced over at her, then returned his attention back to the road, "I mean, he told Steve and you, but not...me." she had been struggling with his reasoning. They were both two opposite people: one was Captain America, the other…was Dawson...Did he not trust her? Even after all this time? After she proved, time and time again that she could be trusted? Dawson's hand flexed around the wheel slightly as he thought of a way to answer her.

"He probably just thought you were going to be at the apartment with Rogers." he answered, shrugging carelessly as if were no big deal, "I mean you two are joined at the hip." he tried to say it sarcastically with another glance in her direction, but it sounded a little bit serious and a little bit envious. She didn't respond right away, trading out her nail biting for picking at the bed of her thumbnail.

"I still think we should -" she started only to have him cut her off with a sharp,

"No." she glared at him. He didn't even let her finish her thought, knowing exactly what she was going to say. It wasn't the first time she had brought it up since getting into the car. And every time she had brought it up, he had been quick to voice how terrible of an idea he thought it was. Apparently, her idea was just a way to deter them from his mission - whatever that was.

She really had no idea what was going on with him. Usually he was so easy to read, she could pick out what was specifically bothering him instead of the general everything, and she always knew what was up his sleeve - even when he was acting ultra focused and refusing to let anything distract him. While it unnerved her slightly, she knew she could wane down both his patience and resolve, if she just continued to poke at his defenses.

"Yes." she stressed, "We need to find him, Dawson." she dropped her hand to her lap, "Whatever's going on, he's in just as much danger as we are." she said seriously, "I can't just leave him to fend for himself."

"Why?" he asked as he slowed down at a red light, "Because he's your boyfriend?" his eyebrows raised up when he made eye contact with her. She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"He's not my boyfriend -"

"Oh, then your new friends with benefits." he clarified, cutting her off, "Glad to see you leveled up since Rumlow." he turned his attention back to the road, ignoring her huff.

"It's not like that or because of that. He's my assignment." she said, trying to make him believe it wasn't as personal as it was to her. But what happened at the Triskelion had rattled her nerves and she had been worried about him ever since he ran off.

After spending six months with Steve, she knew him like the back of her hand. What she didn't know was what happened in his meeting with Pierce or what was said or done that affected his decision making in such a drastic way. From what she did see - what with him busting through the ceiling from forty floors up, he had already started to make some rash, almost desperate choices. And while she already knew he could be a reckless person, there was something different about the things he did, which in turn made predicting the things he would do that much harder. She needed to find him.

"We need to find him." she echoed her thoughts out loud, locking eyes with Dawson when he glanced over to her. They stared at each other for a moment, grey eyes locked on her dark brown ones. He gave in first, eyes shifting away from her. Tipping his head back, his mouth opened a bit while he let out a long, annoyed sigh.

"Fine." he gave in before rolling through the intersection and turning the car into a random parking lot.

Once the car was parked, he reached into the back seat to grab his bag. He roughly tossed the bag at her, using the force behind his motion to pull out his tablet. She made a face at the deliberate contact the bag made with her upper body before shifting it onto her lap. With another heavy sigh, he started tapping at the screen while Q watched quietly.

"He was wearing his suit, right?" he asked shortly, only glancing up once to see her nod. The car fell silent again as he continued to scroll and swipe against his tablet.

"What are you doing?" she asked after a moment. He shushed her sharply, then paused as if he was reconsidering his reaction.

"There's a tracker in his suit." he said as if she should know that already - she did, she just didn't think that it could be helpful until he made it painfully obvious, "Which means he is…" he trailed off before flipping the tablet around to show her, "At your apartment." Her eyebrows furrowed as she reached for the tablet, only to have him pull it back with a noise.

"Why is he there?" she asked, not realizing she said it out loud. Dawson shrugged, turning the tablet back to himself, "We have to go before SHIELD - Hydra, whatever gets there first." her eyes flicked up to meet his. He took in a breath before nodding, seemingly giving in and going along with her plan, even if it wasn't what he wanted to do. Handing over his tablet, he put his car in gear and made a sharp U-turn in the parking lot, heading toward her apartment.

At first, finding out that Steve was at her apartment was a little bit of a surprise only because she had reacted almost selfishly. To her, he went there to make sure she was okay, to protect her. Or even to be there if-slash-when she returned so they could come up with a plan together. It was all about her, not him. But then, she started to think about it with her personal feelings aside and she began to understand his thought process a little better - and it made sense that he chose her apartment.

The Triskelion had been put on lockdown almost immediately after she and Dawson left so he had to have escaped right before them. There weren't many places for him to go to. Since Fury had been murdered in his apartment, he couldn't go back there. SHIELD/Hydra agents were probably still crawling all over the place, some probably just waiting for Steve to come back. The only other place he would've felt safe was at her apartment. Somewhere he knew pretty much no one else knew about.

The door to her apartment was slightly ajar, causing both Q and Dawson to pause and look at each other. He quirked an eyebrow, pushing his lips together as his eyes darted back to the door. She had done enough breaking and entering in her life to know the signs of a forced entry, even if there seemed to be none. Gently, she pushed her hand against the door. It opened slowly and she peered inside, unsure of what or who she was going to find.

"Steve?" she asked out, timidly. There was no response. She stepped into her apartment, only to find it completely destroyed.

Her apartment had been ransacked. Everything she owned was strewn around; books on the floor, flipped over furniture and her files - her files. All of the research and copies of notes were either ripped, crumpled or spread around the apartment carelessly. She slowly walked inside, trying to take it all in. Her brain was running a mile a minute, trying to formulate a proper response, but all she could come up with was,

"We're too late."

"Holy shit." Dawson breathed out as he stepped into her apartment after her. He tried to shut the door behind them, only it popped back open a little, settling in the same position it was when they got there. As she walked around, picking up some of the things that had been messed with, he set down his tablet on the breakfast bar, surveying the damage done to the kitchen.

"Steve!" she cried out suddenly, running into her bedroom to find it was in the same state as the main area of the rest of her apartment. Clothes all over the place, drawers pulled out...but in the center of her bed there was a duffel bag that had been clearly shaken out - Steve's crumpled up uniform laying beside it.

Stepping through the mess, she carefully picked up the uniform, almost like she was afraid it would disintegrate in her hands. The duffel bag had once been full of her brother's laundry, which he forgot to take back when he left after her visit. She reached for the duffel with one hand, dragging it over to her and shaking it out to see if there was anything else inside, any clues of some sort to tell her where Steve had went. It was empty. A heavy sigh escaped her as her heart began to sink to her stomach; this was really their only lead on finding him and he wasn't even there.

Another glance at the duffel bag made her pause. Her fingers rubbed around the material of the star in the center of his uniform, her weight falling to one foot as she put two and two together. The duffel was emptied out, but a quick glance around her room confirmed that her brother's clothes were nowhere to be found among the rest of the mess. What happened was beginning to make sense.

With Steve's uniform in her hands, she walked out of the bedroom. She held the article of clothing up for Dawson to see before she tossed it onto the couch.

"We're too late and he's not even here." she summarized, placing her hands on her hips, "But he was here." she added, pushing her tongue out against her cheek. Dawson raised his eyebrows up.

"So what? He ditched his uniform and is now just running around D.C. naked?" he scoffed, not believing her. He paused though and made a face, as if imagining the sight of Captain America running through the streets of D.C. naked. She slumped down a bit, rolling her eyes at him.

"No. I think he took my brother's clothes that were in the duffel and ran off before SHIELD or Hydra or whoever got here first." she explained, eyes lightly tracing over her apartment as she talked, "And they got here after he left and then destroyed my apartment." she finished softly, eyebrows raising up and mouth opening slightly before she let out a sad laugh. She moved over to where most of her graphs and charts were spread out, either torn apart or out of their binders - everything in just a disorganized mess, "Look what they did!" she cried out, beginning to get angry, "All of my work, my research and data collecting - it's all ruined!" she picked up a few packets that were on the ground, tossing them onto the table roughly, "Fuck!" she shoved her hands through her hair before gesturing wildly to the mess in front of her, "What is even happening!?" she cried out, not really expecting an answer.

"Don't you have copies?" Dawson asked after a moment, with a slight eyebrow raise. She gave him an unamused look.

"That's not the point." she sighed, placing her hands on her hips, "The point is, SHIELD - Hydra, whoever, broke into my apartment trying to find Steve, but instead they found...well they found Steve." she gestured to her graphs and charts, "Just probably not how they were expecting to." she looked around her apartment, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth. Whether this was just a scare tactic or something more, whoever had been in her apartment had found more than they were probably looking for. And all of it could be used to help them advance in their plan of finding Steve.

She and Dawson needed to find him first. Shoving her hands through her hair, she pulled it up into a ponytail. As much as what happened in her apartment angered and annoyed her, there were bigger issues at hand. Her messy apartment could wait.

"Alright, let's figure out a plan, yeah?" she looked to Dawson, who stared at her, then tilted his head to the side, squinting a bit.

"I - I had a plan!" he shouted out suddenly, throwing his arm out wide, "And then you were insistent on finding your midnight lover!"

"He's not my midnight lover!" she yelled back, almost stomping her foot. Ignoring the heat on the back of her neck at his insinuation, she continued "He's my assignment. It's my job to make sure he's okay." she explained, hiding behind her job description once again, "And you didn't even tell me your plan! You just tossed me into your car and drove away!" she reminded him of the lack of detail he provided her about his escape plan. It caused her to doubt his intentions.

When he broke her out of the interrogation room, he said she could trust him, but a small part of her pointed out just how convenient his arrival was. She wanted to trust him, badly, but with everything that had happened over the past few hours, she needed to know what was going on.

A noise of contradiction escaped him and shook his head, bracing himself on the counter of the breakfast bar.

"The plan was to get to a safe place!" he raised his voice again, "You do know that both you and Steve are on SHIELD's hit list right now, right?" his eyebrows shot up as he reached for his tablet, spinning it around to show her the screen.

Even though she could see it perfectly from the table, she crossed over to the breakfast bar. Her SHIELD ID picture was right next to Steve's with the words THREAT LEVEL ONE :: PRIORITY stamped across the top.

Betrayal flooded her body, making her feel like she was both on fire and drowning at the same time. Her throat tightened up and her head began to pound as she read the words over and over and over again, practically searing them into her brain. SHIELD, the only home she had ever known, was currently hunting her down.

"This was sent out to everyone in SHIELD." he explained, voice softer than before. "Which means, tracking down Rogers is not my biggest concern right now." her eyes flicked to meet his, "Getting you to safety is." he finished. The corners of his mouth tugged up in a slight, soft, almost reassuring smile before he quickly became serious again. While she was a touched that he was finally showing how much he cared about her, it didn't do much to lessen the pain that was caused by what was on the screen. And, at the moment, she wasn't even her own concern.

"I appreciate that, Daw," she started, reaching out to place her hand on his arm, "But my biggest concern right now is finding Steve." she admitted. Her heart tightened just at the thought of what he was going through right now, who was after him, what they would do to him if they caught him. He was Hydra's most formidable enemy - having taken down their leader decades before. If they caught him...she didn't even want to think about what would happen.

Dawson stared at her for a long moment before his tongue darted out to lick his lips. She watched as he tapped his fist against the counter, letting his weight fall to one foot before he shook his head,

"You're not gonna give up on him, are you?" she shook her head a bit and he continued to stare at her for another long moment. It was almost a complete parallel to what he was doing. She was risking her life just to make sure someone else she cared about was safe. And she was making it painfully obvious that he couldn't make sure she was safe until she was certain Rogers was safe.

With a glance at the clock on the microwave, he knew they didn't have much time left - both in general and to debate her decision further. And while he wanted to help her, there was a lot that still needed to be done. If they couldn't find Steve in the next couple hours, he would have to leave her to her own devices.

"Okay," he gave in, hands raising up. He decided not to tell her about her time limit, not wanting to stress her out even more than she already was, "I can try one more thing," he took his tablet back, spinning it around so it was facing him, "but you're not gonna like it." he added with a slight glance at her before returning his attention back to his tablet.

"Why?" she asked carefully, arms going to cross over her chest. He let out a sigh, but never looked away from his screen.

"Because I put a tracker in his VITAL." he muttered out. Shocked, her eyebrows rose and her eyes widened.

"I'm sorry, you did what?" she asked, before continuing without letting him answer for himself, "You put a tracker in his FitBit?" she answered her own question with another question. He didn't even defend himself, just nodded a bit, "Why!?" she yelled out, the familiar feeling of betrayal creeping back. Though it's hold was not as tight; anger was coursing through her veins, beating out betrayal by a bit.

"In case, God forbid, anything like this happened!" he matched her tone, gesturing with a wide sweep of his arms around the apartment, "It was a safety protocol!" She let out a groan and moved her hands up to rub at her face. While she understood why Dawson had put in the tracker, she hated that he hadn't told her about it. Because that meant that she had kept another secret from Steve, one that she was not looking forward to telling him about.

A few minutes later, the two were on their way to the last location the FitBit had logged. Even though they had the tracker, the FitBit also had connected to a mall's wireless connection briefly in an attempt to load data into Q's cloud server. The wifi couldn't handle the data dump so the FitBit had cancelled the upload and unchecked itself from the wifi. It hadn't tried to connect to any cell phone towers or other wifis since.

"He should be on the first floor, past the fountains." Dawson told her, using his tablet as a map. There were three floor plans lined up on the screen, all of them representing a different level in the mall. A pulsing dot was on the middle floor plan, off to the right. They walked toward the dot, him using his fingers to zoom in and see more details of Steve's exact location.

"Why a mall?" she asked, looking around the area they were walking through. She hadn't been in a mall since she was a teenager, going only to steal some new clothes or accessories or other items.

"I don't know." he bit out, "I'm not the one who spent every waking hour with him." she gave him an unamused look, which he ignored, instead looking up from his tablet to make sure they were going in the right direction.

The tablet led them to a busy Apple store. Confused, she walked in behind him, following him over to an empty laptop station. His shoulders sagged as he picked up the discarded FitBit and held it up to her. Disappointment settled heavy in her stomach and she matched his sagged shoulders. They were too late. Again.

"Looks like he figured out that you were tracking him." she sighed, taking the FitBit from him. He turned his attention to the laptop in front of him, moving the mouse around the screen with one hand, the other tapping against the keys quickly. She paid him no mind, instead turning the FitBit over in her hands to see if there any signs of a forceful removal.

It was in the same condition that it was when she had first given it to him all those months ago. She trailed her finger over the face of the device, seeing how it lit up with a happy face and a greeting message designed just for Steve. Swiping her finger against the display, she saw the last few vitals the device had taken before he took it off. Everything was elevated, which she expected; he was on the run.

A pang of hurt went through her heart when she remembered how he had left her in the middle of the Triskelion. She thought they were in it together. It was what he had agreed to in bed a few hours before everything. But she was known to agree to a lot after sex - brunches, second dates...so she shouldn't have counted on their agreement to be upheld. Everything happened so fast with so many different variables, it was hard to determine what his decision was or if she had even influenced it at all.

Maybe he didn't even think about her, solely focused on getting out of the situation he was in. Maybe he did think about her, leaving her there so Hydra would be more focused on him than her. An odd way to protect her, but… She would never know until she talked to him. And with how things were going, it seemed they were destined to be separated until God knew when.

"Got him!" Dawson's loud cheer and matching clap got her attention - as well as some of the other Apple customers surrounding them. He glanced around and settled down a bit, giving those around him a tight smile.

"Look." he pointed at the screen, which had some sort of SHIELD file folder displayed, "These computers screen record everything all the time." he explained, "In case someone is doing something illegal or looking up porn or, ya know, trying to look at some classified government information."

"What is that?" she asked, leaning closer to look at the file folder. The Lemurian Star was stamped across the top, but the recording was moving too fast for her to get a good look at what the file actually was.

"It's a bunch of information from the Lemurian Star," he leaned over the laptop, tapping at the screen, "He was trying to decode the encryption that was set on it, but..." he trailed off as he realized exactly what he was looking at.

Quickly, he realized that there were no files in the downloads or trash or even in the harddrive in general. Rogers had to have pulled the files from an outside source...like the flash drive Fury had Natasha use to steal information during the Lemurian Star bust. If the fact that Rogers had the flash drive wasn't concerning enough, the AI encryption on the files had some similar keystrokes as the main code used for Project Insight.

"Did he mention anything about a flash drive?" Dawson asked, straightening up and looking over at Q. She shook her head, arms crossing over her chest,

"No. I honestly don't even think he knows what a flash drive really is," she half-joked, "so I'm not sure how he managed to decode the encryption or whatever." she glanced to him. His eyes were narrowed just a bit, brow furrowed as he understood what she was saying.

"Someone's helping him." he concluded, turning back to the screen.

Another pang went through Q's chest; he had the time to reach out to someone and chose not to call on her. She couldn't understand why. Everything was good between them, great even, they were closer than ever and yet it still seemed like he didn't trust her - even though he had repeatedly told and shown her that he did.

"Well, whoever it is," Dawson brought her back to what was happening, "They used a SHIELD program designed to track hostile malware to try and find the source of the file." he explained as he moved the cursor over the screen, showing her the actions Rogers' partner had took to access whatever he was trying to find. He turned back to the screen, tapping away at it again.

If the encryption code was that similar to the code he worked with for Project Insight, then the source had to be the same for both. The main code was old, but also had some adaptations that were surprisingly modern for having lived on a floppy disk for so long. Dawson hadn't asked questions about where the code had originally come from - something he probably should've done in light of recent events, but now he was trying to figure out if there was a connection. Maybe it could help explain or stop everything.

"Here." he pulled up the location the program had found. She peered over his shoulder to see what was displayed: WHEATON, NJ. "You know it?" he asked, noticing how she reacted.

"Only because of Steve." she looked over at him, "That's where he's going." she said confidently, then turned to walk out of the Apple store. He sighed heavily; he didn't have time to go on this wild goose chase.

Still, he followed her into the mall, keeping an eye out for anyone who could be a threat. Q was usually the people watcher, but with everything that had happened, she was distracted - only focusing on one person specifically: Rogers.

Before they got to the escalators, Dawson let out a hushed curse, then grabbed her arm with his free hand and pulled her to him. Quickly, he moved them behind a rather large, round column, hiding them from someone. She peered out around him, following where he was looking. Her eyes landed on a familiar figure a few feet away - dressed in his STRIKE gear and moving off the escalator, glancing around the immediate area.

"Rumlow?" she hissed out, not sure why he was also at the mall. Dawson wrapped his hand around her mouth and pulled her back. He moved so that her back was pressed up against the column, him in front of her.

Shushing her with wide eyes, he dropped his hand from her mouth to peer around the column again. After a moment, the tension in his shoulders relaxed and he stepped back from her. He nodded to himself before looking back at her, then motioned with his head.

"C'mon," he started to walk away from the column they were hiding behind. Q pushed off of it to hurry after him.

"Why is Rumlow here?" she asked, a bit confused by the appearance of her former sex partner. Dawson let out a heavy sigh,

"Pretty sure the same reason we are." he looked back down at his tablet. "Looking for Rogers." he continued, even though that was obvious, "Since he's Hydra and all." he added, casually as if he were talking about the color of his hair. Q stopped walking as the realization of what he said settled.

"Rumlow...is Hydra?" she phrased it more like a question even though she knew the answer. Dawson nodded before doing a double take when he realized she wasn't standing next to him anymore. He gave her a sympathetic smile - that looked wrong on his face; she had never seen him pity her before, not in a real way.

Stepping over to her, he tapped at his tablet, accessing SHIELD's security footage from what happened earlier in the day. He turned the screen to face her, letting her see inside the elevator. Steve was standing in the middle of a large group of men: a mix of agents and STRIKE team members, one of them being Rumlow. Her eyes were trained on the screen as the fight broke out, Steve trying his best to fight off the dozen men who were all attacking him at once. She heard Rumlow's voice as he made a remark before lunging for Steve again.

"So, either he's Hydra, or really hates that you and Rogers are sleeping together." Dawson pulled her attention from the screen. Q let out a breath she wasn't even aware she was holding the whole time she had been watching the video. Rumlow had attacked Steve. Tried to take him down with the rest of the men in the elevator, some she even recognized - Jesus, were they all Hydra? How deep did this breach run?

"Q?" he asked, noticing how still she was standing. She was staring straight past him, even though no one was behind him.

Small sparks of hurt were flicking against her skin, pricking her like little quick needles. Rumlow was Hydra. Someone she had had gotten intimate with, someone she relied on for an escape - a release. She had literally slept with the enemy. And it had felt so good while she was doing it.

"When did you see this?" her voice was calm for the storm that brewing inside her body. Dawson let his arms drop to his sides and made face as he shrugged.

"Like right before I busted you out of SHIELD. Not the whole thing, since it was happening in real time and all, but enough to figure it out..." he didn't see how big of a deal it was to her. He didn't care about Rumlow like she had - even if she had pretended she didn't. She managed a humorless laugh, shoving a hand through her hair as the other went to rest at her hip.

"Fuck." she breathed out, tears forming in the corners of her eyes for some reason. She really didn't know why she was getting so emotional over finding out Rumlow was Hydra.

Out of all the secrets and lies, that was practically the only thing that made sense to her. Of course he was Hydra. He fit the mold: a master manipulator - able to trick even her, arrogant and narcissistic. And yet, she felt like the revelation had tipped her over the top. There were too many secrets and lies swirling around her. She was on the verge of a breakdown.

An iciness began to spread across her body, numbing the pricking needle-like pain. It was familiar, but she hadn't felt it in a long while. Not since she decided to clean up her act and focus on her new life at SHIELD. But that was all tumbling down around her. She swallowed the lump in her throat and let her hand drop from her head. Instead of walking up to Dawson so they could continue their trek back to the car, she turned and went into the store that was directly across from her.

"Q -" Dawson started before heaving a sigh and going after her, "Where are you going?" he followed her into the store, noticing how she went straight for the clothes section. It wasn't a super fancy store, but it had a little bit of everything. There was only one employee by the register, fixated on her phone and not paying attention to them.

"What are you doing?" he asked lowly, keeping close to her.

"Nothing is in my control anymore, Dawson." she answered, voice firm, eyes sharp, "I need to fix that." she swiped through the rack before grabbing a tank top and then moving over to take a pair of yoga pants.

"By buying workout clothes?" he followed her to where she grabbed a random backpack. He watched her stuff the items inside, "Oh, hey, woah!" he reached for her wrist, getting a glare from her.

"Are you really about to tell me not to steal?" she hissed out with a raise of her eyebrows, knowing full well what he did before SHIELD, "Ironic, coming from you." she yanked her wrist away from him and moved away from him. He watched her go over to the men's section, grabbing a pair of khakis and a dark colored t-shirt - there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to what she was after.

In the past, he liked to joke about Rebel Q, having thought those days were long over. The most rebellious thing she ever did the last couple years were little, safe things, like toeing the line between following orders and finding a loophole that would save her when she didn't. Nothing that could get her real trouble or put people at risk. What was happening now was reminiscent of the teenage Q he had met several years prior.

The look in her eyes when she glared at him, he hadn't seen in a long time. It was the same look she had in her eye whenever she tried one of her escape plans: determined and cold, calculating and dark. He hated it; it always ended badly for whoever or whatever was her target.

The whirlwind of the day finally caught up with her, causing her to spiral down back into a place where she knew she could be safe. Ironically enough, it was doing something illegal she did as a teenager. And weirdly enough, he understood. They had both spent so long trying to better themselves that finding out they had been working for the bad side all along would of course trigger them. When he found out about Hydra, he struggled too - was still struggling a bit, but this wasn't about him. She needed to work through it and he wasn't about to stop her.

Glancing over to the employee, he saw she hadn't moved - unaware of the blatant stealing happening in her store. Good. He knew from experience that trying to stop Q when she had that look in her eye only led to chaos, and he really didn't have time to clean up another mess.

With each item Q put in the backpack, the icy feeling began to melt a little bit more. Deep down, she knew she wasn't reacting in the right way - but was there any right way to react when you found out your co-worker with benefits was part of an evil organization whose main goal was to control the world? She didn't know, but this was her way of dealing with it. All of it, really.

While stealing was so obviously wrong, she felt like she was finally in control of something for the first time since waking up that morning. All day she had been stuck in the eye of a hurricane, whirling around and going wherever the storm took her - getting smacked over and over again with the real truth behind the lies she had believed for so long. She just needed a moment to feel like she had some semblance of control over her actions, even if they weren't the best.

After she was satisfied with the items she had, she left the store without another word. The employee at the register was just another surly teen who had much better things to do than keep an eye on a store with no customers. And with no security tags on any of the items, she wouldn't even realize things were missing until they had to take stock of their items. But by then, Q would be long gone. For once that day, the odds had been in her favor.

"Feeling better now?" Dawson quipped sarcastically as they got to his car. She sighed, knowing he was pissed with her at what she did, but she didn't bother to respond otherwise. Instead, she tossed her new backpack into the back of his car. She went to get into the passenger seat, only to have him stop her with a hand against the door.

"What?" she asked, turning back to him.

"I can't go with you." he said, grimacing a bit. She stepped away from the car, her brows furrowed in confusion. She didn't understand why he couldn't come with her - he was always her partner in crime.

"What? Why? Cause I stole all that stuff?" she gestured to the back seat, "Daw, I'm sorry. It was just a one time thing - with everything that's happened today, I - I was feeling a little out of control, I -" she tried to explain her reasoning behind what she did.

"No, that's not it." he cut her off by raising his a hand up and shaking his head, "No, no I just…" he took in a breath, slipping his hands into his pockets, "I told you that Rogers wasn't my biggest priority, okay? There's other stuff I need to take care of - important stuff, but I thought if I got you first, made sure you were safe and okay… then I could take care of everything else after." he started to explain, "But, Q, we've just been wasting time trying to find him." he let out a sad laugh and raised his shoulders up, "And we don't have time to waste."

"What do you mean?" she asked, confused again, "Dawson, what else is going on?" He shook his head, like he couldn't tell her. After all this, there were still secrets she wasn't privy to.

"I can't - listen, find Rogers, okay?" he instructed, reaching out to press his hands against her shoulders, "Take my car, do what you have to do, alright?" he told her, ignoring the guilt that was creeping up. He didn't want to leave her, but she was just making things more and more time consuming. And he really didn't have time to spare, what with all the work that still needed to be done. While she was completely focused on saving Rogers, he needed to be focused on the next step in stopping Hydra - and he knew they were different paths.

"Here," he stepped back to hand her his tablet, "This has the coordinates from the Apple store, where you said he went." he explained. A part of him wanted to go with him, not because of Rogers, but because he was curious as to where the code for Project Insight had come from and why Rogers knew about it too. That would have to wait for another day, "When you find him, there's another set in there that will take you to a safehouse, okay? It's where I wanted to take you earlier. Just meet me there when you've got him." she managed a nod, not really sure what was going on. Again, the out of control feeling was coming back. It had barely been a half an hour since she felt it last.

"Alright, yeah." she nodded again, taking in a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself down, "Got it." she forced a smile on her face and he nodded back at her.

"This'll all be over soon." he promised her, reaching out with one arm to wrap it around her shoulders and pull her into a half hug, "A long time ago, I hacked into traffic cams to hide the Telsa, but still stay off main roads and go the speed limit just to be safe." he advised before stepping back. Suddenly, she realized this might be the last time she would see him for a while; she had no idea what he was doing or why he was leaving or where he was going...

"What about you? What about SHIELD? Aren't they after you too?" she asked, finally catching up and asking all the questions she should've earlier in the day, "Where are you going? What important stuff do you have to take care of?" he took in a breath, hands slipping into his pockets.

"I have to right some wrongs." he said vaguely. She swallowed and nodded again, not liking the answer she got, but knowing he wouldn't explain more. Again, tears were forming in the corners of her eyes and she quickly wiped them away, hearing him laugh a little.

"Awh, are you crying over me?" he teased, reaching out to punch her shoulder lightly.

"No." she scoffed, shaking her head, "Just a lot of dust in this parking garage." she said lamely. He grinned at her before taking another step back.

"Go, Q," he tilted his chin up at her, "I'll see you soon." he sounded sure of himself. She wanted to believe him. So she forced herself to, knowing it would be easier to leave if she did. Nodding, she turned to go around the front of the car.

"And if anything happens to my car, I will kill you." he threatened, but it was half hearted at best. She rolled her eyes before opening the driver's side door and sliding inside. Propping up the tablet against the middle of the dash, she clicked on the coordinates from the Apple store.

Time to see where Steve came from.


	40. road trip

"Where did Captain America learn to steal a car?" Nat asked, bemusedly. And at the same time, breaking the comfortable silence that had been filling the car for the past hour and a half.

After their near run-in with the SHIELD STRIKE team at the mall, Steve hot wired one of the trucks in the parking lot so they could make their escape. The flash drive Fury had gave him before he died had given them reason to believe that their answers would lie in a place he hadn't been to in over seventy years. He wasn't about to give up just because of that.

"Nazi, Germany." he answered her question. There were a couple of times during the war where the Howling Commandos needed a ride. To lessen their chances of being spotted by Hydra soldiers, they usually sole Hydra vehicles so they could operate under the guise of being on the same side until the time was right to strike. Though most times, Hydra realized they were coming - his uniform was a dead giveaway. What he wouldn't give for a stealth uniform back then...

He tilted his chin up toward where her feet were pressed up against the dashboard, "And we're borrowing, get your feet off the dash." he used the tone Q teasingly referred to as his grandpa tone, like he was disciplining her. Nat gave him a slight smirk before dramatically taking her feet off the dashboard.

A disgusted sigh escaped him instinctively when they passed by the sign welcoming them to New Jersey as the sun set. It wasn't even intentional. It had just been bred into him to dislike Jersey. The armpit of America, as Bucky called it. No one liked people from Jersey, no one liked Jersey either - not even the people who lived in Jersey. Which was why they always were in New York, clogging up their streets with their stupid Jersey attitudes. The only thing it was good for was being used as a location of residency for enlistment forms. And maybe Camp Lehigh.

The camp was his beginning, really. The place where he started his journey to being Captain America. But after everything that happened, he never thought he would be going back to the camp. Not in a million years. It was just another painful reminder of what was and what could've been.

Erskine had shipped him off to the camp with the instructions to simply do his best and be himself. Great advice. Steve wasn't sure what he was expecting; he had never step foot into one of the training camps before - only seeing them during the war PSAs. But as soon as he arrived, he knew he didn't belong. All the other men were muscular and in shape, probably passing the enlistment exam on their first try. With his skinny, frail figure and a two sizes too big helmet, Steve stood out like a sore thumb.

The weeks he had spent there, trying to prove that he was fit to be considered to be a part of the Army, were some of the most grueling weeks of his life. The training itself was difficult; he had zero muscle definition to pull himself up the ropes course, his lungs gave out during every exercise, and he missed every target during shooting practice because of his poor sight. Some of the other men didn't make it any easier for him. They'd bully him during the training exercises; making courses collapse on him, shoving past him during their runs so he fell over, or not even considering him as a teammate for drills. He had dealt with bullies all his life, he should've known that there would be a few in Camp Lehigh. He could handle them. And he was there to serve his country, so he powered through the training and ignored the bullies because he wanted to prove he could be a part of something bigger.

He didn't quite understand what the "bigger" was until he was chosen to be a part of it. Phillips had given a speech the first day about the purpose of the SSR - how it was trying to create an army of super soldiers in order to escort Hitler "straight to the gates of hell." Steve thought he was trying to be dramatic, not literally create an army of super soldiers. Clearly, he was wrong.

He never thought he would be chosen to be one of the first soldiers either. There were plenty of better options, others in the camp who were stronger, better, faster and didn't have a thousand life threatening illnesses. But apparently, Erskine was adamant that it needed to be Steve. So it was.

The camp was his beginning to becoming Captain America, but it felt like it was the end of Steve Rogers. Even though he tried to live by Erskine's words - Not a perfect soldier, but a good man, it was hard to when everyone only wanted one part of him. Phillips no longer wanted him to escort Hitler to the gates of hell, but instead be tested on in order to create more super soldiers. Then the USO just wanted him to sell their war bonds as nothing more than a character. And when the SSR officially recruited him, they needed a soldier, needed someone to take down Hydra and the Red Skull. They didn't want Steve Rogers; to them, he was weak and easily breakable. They wanted Captain America; to them, he was strong and an unbreakable symbol for America.

This continued even seventy years later, with the Avengers Initiative. They needed him as the soldier he was supposed to be, but not the man he was. So he shoved Steve Rogers away again because no one needed him. The world needed Captain America, the world's greatest hero - forgetting about the man under the stars and stripes uniform.

It took him a long time to realize he could be both Steve and Captain America. And he had Q to thank for both helping and reminding him that there were people out there who didn't just want him for his Captain America status - she was one of the only people who liked him for Steve Rogers. Having helped him come to terms with everything that happened in his past that shaped him into who he was in that moment. She made him feel comfortable enough so that he didn't have to be Captain America all the time, reminding him that he was allowed to be just Steve Rogers.

She accepted him when he trusted her enough to be the normal, simple man, with doubts and fears just like everyone else. The man who didn't carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, just the weight of his own guilt - which she helped him work through.

Captain America was a part of him, it always was, but it didn't have to control his entire life. One wasn't more important than the other. He could be Steve Rogers while he was Captain America and vice a versa. Not a perfect soldier, but a good man.

"Alright, I have a question for you," Nat's voice pulled him from his thoughts. He glanced over to her to see her looking at him curiously, "which you do not have to answer." she gave him an out before immediately pointing out that, "I feel like, if you don't answer it though, you're kind of answering it, you know." she rambled a bit, like she was trying to explain how she already had an answer to the question she hadn't even asked yet.

"What?" he asked out impatiently, raising his eyebrows and cutting off anything else she was about to say.

"Was that your first kiss since 1945?" she asked with her trademark smirk on her face. Q's voice echoed in the back of his head with the same question she had has him several weeks ago. Though her way of phrasing the question had been more pitying than Nat's clear amusement by it.

"That bad, huh?" he scoffed a little, mock offended as he tilted his head forward. The kiss they shared on the escalator was nothing like the kisses he shared with Q. He loved the kisses he shared with Q; they felt real and reminded him that he was alive. The one he shared with Nat was hurried and clumsy, only used as a way to distract Rumlow, who was on the opposite escalator, going up while they were going down.

"I didn't say that." she argued, trying to lighten the blow.

"Well, it kind of sounds like that's what you're saying." he glanced over to her with a slight grin. He knew it was a bad kiss, he couldn't really be offended by that.

"No, I didn't." she argued, adapting some sort of innocence and trying not to make him feel bad about it, "I just wondered how much practice you've had." he let out a slight laugh, shaking his head a bit. Again, it was almost echoing the conversation he had with Q at the bar after the game.

"You don't need practice." he disagreed, taking the same side as he did before.

"Everybody needs practice." she shot back like he was being stupid.

"It was not my first kiss since 1945." he overlapped her in an effort to stop the conversation, "I'm ninety-five, I'm not dead." he said matter of factly, ignoring the amused smile she was trying so hard to contain.

"Who have you been kissing then, Rogers?" she asked teasingly. A short laugh escaped him and he shook his head, not bothering to dignify her question with a response. She didn't need to know what happened the night prior and with who he spent it with. Q would call it unprofessional to discuss his sex life with a coworker to another coworker.

Shifting in his seat, he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel and the sleeve of his jacket moved up, exposing his wrist. There was a clear tan line from where his science watch had been for the past six months, the one he took off at the Apple store when Nat informed him that there was a tracker embedded in the device. Something he had no clue about. And another thing Q had lied to him about. He had asked her point blank if there was anything else she had lied about and she had said no. He believed her, forgave her even, and then it all came tumbling down several hours later in the middle of an Apple store.

Over the entirety of the road trip, a small war was going on in his heart. Half of it wanted to focus solely on the lies she had told him, the secrets she had kept from him. The other half wanted to give himself entirely to her, double back and find her and keep her safe from whatever dangers may lay ahead.

He was worried about her because while he knew she could take care herself if she had to, SHIELD was her home and he wasn't sure if he was more important than the place that had given her a second chance. He didn't want to make her choose between him and them, even if they were currently overrun by compromised agents. All he wanted to do was protect her.

"Nobody special, though?" Again, Nat pulled him from his thoughts. He let out a humorless chuckle, beginning to play a part instead of admitting that he did have someone special. He kept his eyes on the road, knowing if he looked at her, she would see right through him. You're a terrible liar, she had said to him once before. He didn't feel comfortable telling Nat about Q; he didn't know what she would do with the information.

"Believe it or not, it's kind of hard to find someone with shared life experience." he answered, giving a reasonable excuse for not being with Q.

It was something he had been thinking about during the road trip every time his mind wandered to her and the future of their relationship. They were from different times, did different things, were different people. Would they even work together as a couple? They already had sex, so did that mean they were together? Back in his day, sex could sometimes be considered a serious step in a relationship, depending on the person - and he was definitely one of those people, but he knew Q was not.

"Well, that's alright. You just make something up." she said as if the answer was completely obvious. He glanced at her, grateful for the opening to turn the conversation's focus onto her.

"What, like you?" he asked, raising his eyebrows a bit. Though he wasn't sure what exactly, he knew there was something going on between her and Dawson and wondered if she was playing a part or truly being herself.

"I don't know." she mumbled glancing down at her lap before meeting his eyes again, "The truth is a matter of circumstance." she explained with a slight smile as if she had rehearsed what she was going to say. It reminded him of how Q would get when she was trying to explain her actions without making them personal. Hiding behind facts and truth that were applicable to her situation, "It's not all things to all people, all the time." she paused, raising her eyebrows a bit, "Neither am I." she gave him a knowing smile.

"That's a tough way to live." he pointed out.

"It's a good way not to die, though." she argued slightly, heaving a sigh as she slumped down in her seat. There was a beat of silence before he continued,

"You know, it's kind of hard to trust someone, when you don't know who that someone really is." Steve said, both telling her and reminding himself of the same. He learned that much from spending time with Q. He trusted her, yes, but he realized he didn't fully trust her until the night before, when they were in bed swapping stories and being entirely themselves without fear of what the other might do or say or think about what was said.

"Yeah." Nat agreed, looking unfazed by what he said. She blinked, gaze shifting away from him for a moment like she was lost in thought or remembering something from before, then returning to him, "Who do you want me to be?" she asked.

"How bout a friend?" he responded with a small smile. He could use a friend right now. His only two friends were back in DC - he had no idea if Dawson was still with SHIELD and aware of the breach and Q, well, had left her at SHIELD and didn't know where she had ended up.

Nat let her head roll back so she was facing front as she laughed a little, "Well, there's a chance you might be in the wrong business, Rogers." she pointed out, drawing out the wrong as she let her head roll back to meet his eyes. He held her gaze for a moment before taking in a breath and returning his attention to the road.

Being alone in a car for over two hours was slowly driving her insane - pun not intended. She had nothing to focus on except driving and driving … and even more driving. Her mind tried to be helpful by offering up things she didn't want to think about, wandering to places she didn't want to wander or remembering things she didn't want to remember. The first hour she spent thinking about Dawson and his motives. She trusted him, but he was acting sketchy the whole day, even leaving her on her own to chase down Steve while he went to "right some wrongs." Whatever the fuck that meant. All she knew was that she was alone on her road trip to Camp Lehigh in her efforts to find Steve before the wrong people did.

She had passed by the welcome sign for the New Jersey state line as night fell, not being able to contain the disgusted noise that loudly escaped from her mouth. She hated Jersey. It was the armpit of America. Just a suburb state trying to be New York. She had only ventured over the state lines when she was a teenager looking to score some cheaper product than what was being sold in the city. But Camp Lehigh was located there and that was where Steve was headed so...Jersey was where she was going. Unfortunately.

They had conversations about the camp before. She learned about the training he went through, the men he was stuck with, the different tests he had to complete in order for them to determine if he would be chosen for Project Rebirth. He might not have been the fastest or the strongest of the men, but her certainly had the smarts and the heart. He told her stories that proved it. Like how he was able to get the flag down from the flagpole simply by unscrewing the bottom so it would fall - something no one had ever done before. Or how he was the first person to jump on a fake grenade in order to save everyone else in his platoon. It was admirable and she understood why they had chosen him. Not a perfect soldier, but a good man.

Though she was a bit worried about him going back to Camp Lehigh after being away from it for so long. It could be a trigger for him, just like the Smithsonian was the first couple of times, especially given the circumstances. There were tons of memories there, good and bad. But she forced herself not to focus on it; he had made so much progress over the past six months that an abandoned military training camp shouldn't be a problem for him.

If anything, the past six months proved that there was no longer any disconnect between being Captain America and being Steve Rogers. He had figured out a balance between the two, accepting both as part of who he was, and had learned how each could influence the other in a positive way. To her, he was no longer a man out of time, but one who had adapted and was practically flourishing in it. And it was something that she was immensely proud of.

That had been one of her main goals in the beginning and to achieve it in something short of six months made her incredibly pleased with herself and him. It was certainly helpful that they had spent almost every single waking hour together and he had trusted her to help him. They had developed a partnership with each other, that was more than just an assignment or a professional relationship - they relied on each other. Which was why it was still so strange to her that he had left her in the way that he did, continuing to evade her all the way to Jersey of all places.

Chasing him down had made her turn her back on the one place that truly felt like home. She was choosing him over SHIELD, which she never thought would ever happen. SHIELD had given her a second chance. She had done everything in her power to make sure she would never throw it away; changing herself completely and making sure nothing from her old life would threaten the life she was building at SHIELD … and yet, when push came to shove she gave it all up. All for him, because of him. And she didn't even think twice about it.

The second hour she spent thinking about Steve. What he was doing; it had to do with something regarding the SHIELD breach and what was on the Macbook at the Apple store. Who he was with; someone had to be helping him since he knew as much about technology as she did about drawing things. Why he was going to Camp Lehigh: she never did find out what was the encrypted file Steve and his partner were trying to access. But ultimately, she always found her way back to thinking about what had transpired between them the night before and their relationship together.

Not that there really was a relationship to really think about. Not in the traditional sense at least. They had talked about their feelings and talking had turned into actions, but there had been no conversation about making it official. And for her, sex wasn't an immediate bridge to a romantic relationship with the other person.

Honestly, as much as she wanted to be in a relationship with him, she wasn't even sure there could be one between the two of them. While he was special to her and she cared about him (she was going to Jersey to make sure he was okay after all), she didn't know if there could be a future with him. Her pro/con list from when she was debating telling him about her feelings in the first place proved that. There were too many variables that could influence their relationship and make it not work. They were from different times, had no shared life experiences, were completely different people.

A war was happening between her head and her heart. Logic flooded her brain, reminding her that he was still her assignment and it would be unprofessional to start something with him. But at the same time, she reminded herself that professionalism flew out the window the moment they made their way to her bedroom. And with the fact that SHIELD had been compromised, she was pretty sure he wasn't her assignment anymore either.

The burning in her heart was hard to ignore, even with her instincts to go with her facts and sound reasoning screaming at her. She had never had such intense feelings for someone before. Of course, she even had a logical explanation for it; the circumstances they were in were making everything heightened. But for once, she wanted to listen to her heart and stop using her facts and research to keep herself from something that could be something good for her. And she already knew Steve was good for her, even before anything had happened between them.

Even though it was her job to help him adjust to being a modern man in the modern world, he had helped her just as much. He encouraged her to become more comfortable with being herself again, to stop hiding behind the pantsuits and her graphs and charts. She was so scared of being rejected or slipping back into old habits, but watching him grow comfortable with himself taught her how to be comfortable with herself too. It was something she was still struggling with, especially with the SHIELD breach, but she was learning how to embrace that side of her that she had pushed down and away for so long.

By a half hour past the second hour, the stress of the trip was getting to her. Even if the drive itself was only supposed to be a little under three hours, she felt like she had been driving for a full day. The stretch of highway seemed endless. Camp Lehigh felt like it was on the opposite side of the world. Her mind was making it impossible to focus on anything but the terrible things that had been happening, mixed with the anxiety that came from having such strong feelings for Steve, and while she was enjoying the scenery, she just wanted to be at Camp Lehigh. She wanted to make sure he was okay, tell him everything she had found out, and maybe yell at him a little for leaving her behind. But she felt like she was never going to get there.

Opening the divider between the seats, looking for gum to chew so she could have something else to focus on, she instead found an open box of cigarettes. The stress of Dawson's super secret project must've been getting to him too. She reached in and grabbed one, finding a lighter under the carton. She stuck the cigarette between her lips, keeping one hand on the wheel as she lit the cigarette with her other hand.

She hadn't smoked since after her grandmother's funeral when she was completely shit-faced with her brother, but the familiar motion relaxed her almost immediately. The window was rolled down, letting the fresh air mingle with the smell of smoke. For a moment, she leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes, trying to calm her mind.

With each drag, her mind became quieter and she stopped obsessing over Steve and SHIELD and Dawson and all the secrets and lies that were being unearthed almost every hour, and of course, what was waiting for her at Camp Lehigh. She had to deal with it, but she had to take it one problem at a time. At that moment, all that mattered was getting to Camp Lehigh before Steve left - she could figure out the rest from there.

She flicked her cigarette butt out the window as she exited off the highway. The GPS directed her through a small town and she wondered briefly if any of them were aware of what was happening outside of their little town. How one of the country's most important governmental branches was breaking apart. They probably didn't. Lucky them. She drove away from the town, moving toward the country itself where the camp was located. Made sense that it was in the middle of nowhere; no one needed to hear rifles firing or grenades exploding.

It was pitch black out by the time she turned onto the road leading to the base. If she wasn't on a mission, she would be getting ready for bed; the events of the past few days having taken a toll on her. After a few moments, the road turned into dirt and rocks, indicating that she was getting closer. The lack of streetlights didn't help her in seeing where she was going, but the headlights of the Tesla let her see that there was a pickup truck a few feet away. It must've been what Steve stole as his getaway car, having learned how to hot wire a car in Germany. Something they did have in common; she knew how to too - just learned it in Brooklyn, not Nazi Germany.

Parking behind the pickup truck, Q got out of the Tesla and started for the entrance only to stop when she heard a sharp whistling of something flying through the air. She looked up at the sky, expecting a plane, but instead seeing something with smoke coming out of its tail. It wasn't flying over the camp, but instead heading straight for it. No, it couldn't be -

She followed the missile with her eyes, watching as it struck one of the bunkers in the back middle of the camp.


	41. where you go, i go

A loud boom echoed around the camp as the bunker exploded. Since she wasn't far enough away to be safe from the debris, she instinctively lifted her arms up to cover her face. As stones and pieces of the bunker fell from the sky, she squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for it to hit her. But instead, she heard the debris bouncing against something.

Opening her eyes, Q saw that there was a large shield-like forcefield projecting from her wrist. She moved her down to see that it was coming from the balance bracelet that Dawson had modified months earlier. He must've slipped it on before her road trip. She had been so caught up in her thoughts and trying to get to the bunker as fast as she could without drawing attention to herself that she didn't even notice. Even if he wasn't right by her side, he was always finding some ways to protect her.

With a shake of her wrist, the forcefield was sucked back into the bracelet. It looked just like a normal, rubber bracelet again. She wanted to investigate it more, but ash and dust had started to rain down around her, getting her to look up at the sky. It stained her skin, coated her hair and got into her lungs with every breath she took. The ringing in her ears was loud and annoying, but it subsided after a few moments. Suddenly, the sound of concrete falling against each other from the explosion got her attention.

One big cloud of dust formed up, a bunch of little ones rolling out as the concrete collapsed on itself. Small fires were burning, lighting up where wires or flammable objects had been. It looked like something that only happened in movies she watched or the feed from the Battle of New York. Never had she seen something like this in person before - or at least not in a long time. She carefully walked forward, glancing up at the sky just in case any other missiles were headed toward the camp. Who could've sent a missile to Camp Lehigh - and why? There was nothing here except a empty Army bunks and other deserted buildings. Then she remembered who was at the camp, remembering that she had gone on this little road trip to find Steve. Which meant he was still in there and he could've been hit.

"Steve!" she called out, worry and fear wrapping its hands around her once again. Her heart lurched at the thought of him being buried under piles of rubble. Crushed to death. She jumped over blocks of concrete and ducked under fallen wires, no regard to her own safety as she searched for him, "Steve!" she yelled, cupping her hands around her mouth as if that were to project her voice more. The silence she was met with was deafening, even though moments before her ears were ringing from a massive explosion.

As she got closer to where the missile hit, she heard someone grunting as if they were trying to move the heavy blocks of the bunker. She climbed over a rather large pile of concrete, ignoring how she tore up her hands and the material of her pantsuit. Carefully, she slid down it, landing on the balls of her feet before looking around as if she could see where the grunting was coming from.

"Steve!" she called out again, feeling like those grunts were coming from wherever he was.

Again, she heard it, the sound of slabs of concrete moving harmonizing with. It was coming right from the middle of where she assumed the bunker had been standing moments ago. She jumped up onto a piece of fallen concrete, using her phone's flashlight to scan the general area, trying to see if there were any indicators as to where he might be. As much as she wanted to help, she knew there was no way she could. She didn't have super strength - or really any strength.

Still, the shifting of the concrete was enough to tell her that he was making progress. It didn't take much longer for him to move the bigger piece off of where it had trapped him. A cough followed the crushing sound of the rock being moved on top of another. She jumped off the piece she had been standing on to move some of the smaller rocks away to clear a path for him. The flashlight landed on his face, causing him to squint at the sudden aggressive light.

"Steve." she breathed out his name in relief. A weight was lifted off her shoulders, but seemed to settle on his. His shoulders slumped a bit and his brows furrowed.

"Queenie?" his voice was rough, no doubt from the amounts of dust he had just inhaled, "What are you doing here?" he let out another cough and then grimaced. As much as she wanted to be angry with him for leaving her and then having the balls to ask something like that, all of that had disappeared the moment the missile hit the bunker.

"We'll talk about it later." she reached her hand out to him. Instead of giving her his hand, he handed her his shield. She took it, not realizing how light the weapon actually was. While she was a bit confused as to why he gave it to her, it suddenly all made sense when she saw what he was using his hands for instead.

Nat was slumped up against, what was at one point, part of the wall of the bunker, barely conscious. He easily picked her up in his arms and she let out a groan - the only indicator that she was alive. Neither of them looked in great shape. Granted, they just survived a missile strike, but still. Both were covered in dust and soot, their clothes were ripped up, cuts marked up their skin and no doubt there would be bruises blossoming all over their bodies. Q just wanted to stop right there and take care of them before they did anything else.

But Steve had a determined look on his face and she knew that their main goal was get out of the camp first. She followed him as they picked their way over the debris, almost following the same path she took to get to them in the first place. He kept glancing up at the sky, almost like he was expecting another missile, before looking back over his shoulder to make sure she was keeping up with him. She was, barely, but she was.

Q didn't know how he was doing it. Sure, she understood how he was doing the basic physical stuff. The super soldier serum helped with his healing and his stamina; where she was trying to catch her breath every chance she could get or ignore the burning in her muscles as she climbed over another piece of concrete - he was moving right along like it was just a walk in the park. But she didn't understand how he was dealing with everything mentally. He always said he never compartmentalized things, but she knew that was a lie. He so clearly was right now - only thinking about getting to safety and nothing else regarding what had happened earlier that day. Shit. It was still the same day. How had this day been so long, but have so much happen at the same time?

Normal nature sounds resumed as they made their way out of the camp. It was almost like nothing had happened minutes earlier. The only way she could tell was by the crunching of debris under their shoes or the sounds of gravity shifting the remains of the bunker. Otherwise, she was the loudest of the group - practically panting as she kept up with him. This was the worst time to be out of shape.

Outside of the camp, she led him over to the Tesla, ignoring his slight confusion at the car. He carefully placed Nat in the backseat so she was lying comfortably. As he made sure Nat was okay, Q glanced up at the sky to see three jets fly over the area, spotlights shining down on the debris below. Whoever had launched the missile was coming to survey the damage and no doubt, the make sure their targets had been neutralized - aka Steve and Nat. She moved around the back to get to the driver's side as he got into the passenger seat.

In complete silence, she started up the car and started to pull back onto the road. She was trying to get out of there as fast as possible before whoever was in the jets touched down and realized Steve and Nat had escaped.

A few minutes of quiet passed as both of them caught their breath and settled down, finally realizing what had happened.

"What the fuck, Steve!?" she suddenly yelled out, breaking the tense silence between them. He winced at her sudden outburst, but she paid no mind to him, "What the fuck is going on?!" she smacked her hand against the steering wheel, "What was at the camp? Why is Nat helping you? Who tried to blow you up? Why did you -" she stopped herself from finishing her last question. That was too personal and could give her an answer she probably wasn't ready for.

"I was trying to protect you." he answered her final, unasked question, knowing it was the most important one for her. She scoffed at that, hating whenever someone used that as an excuse, "You shouldn't have come after me." she looked over at him incredulously before returning her attention to the road again.

"Of course I should have!" she yelled out, "You're my assignment, where you go, I go." she used her job description as a defense once more, not wanting him to know how this had nothing to do with her job. "And that is the lamest excuse I've ever heard. Especially because I - I thought we were going to figure this out together." she finished quietly, realizing she was more hurt than angry. He was quiet for a long moment before taking in a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, Q." he apologized, "Everything just happened so fast." she let out a resigned sigh, waving her hand in the air a bit.

"I know, I know." she agreed with him, understanding what he meant. Everything had escalated entirely too quickly, leaving both of them to make split decisions without really thinking anything through - including the other person.

"Did they do anything to you?" he asked after a moment. She glanced over to see his jaw was clenching, fist curling up as he waited for her answer. Almost like he was picturing the things they did to her because she was tied to him in such an important way - professionally at least.

"No, no, just...questioned me about you." she responded, not wanting him to worry about her, "Dawson got me out before anything really happened." he nodded, but his hand didn't relax out of his fist. She reached over to pull his fingers out from where they were clenched, instead intertwining them with hers. "I'm okay." she assured him with a quick glance and a small smile. He met her eyes and returned her smile, nodding a bit more.

"Tell me what happened." she prompted, wanting to know about his meeting with Pierce and the events following.

Hesitating, Steve's gaze shifted over to her profile. He trusted her implicitly, but her timing seemed too coincidental. She showed up immediately after the missile hit, with no explanation as to how she had found him. She seemed completely clueless of all the things that were happening or had happened to lead them to this point. And while he was so relieved that she was okay and SHIELD hadn't done anything to her because of him, he had no idea what she had been up to in the hours since they were seperated.

"How'd you find us?" he asked quietly, not wanting to start an argument, but genuinely curious. Surely she could understand his hesitation in not telling her everything right then and there.

"Uh, Dawson - he put a tracker in your FitBit - of which I had no idea about -" she was quick to defend herself, pulling her hand from his in order to use to punctuate it. He didn't react; he already learned about the tracker in the science watch, but it was good to know she didn't know about it - made the sting of the earlier betrayal fade,

"Which led us to the Apple store, but you were gone by the time we got there so Dawson did some computer stuff and figured out the program you were using to track whatever file was on some flash drive Fury gave you -" she cut herself off, "Why didn't you tell me about the flash drive?" she asked, brow furrowing a bit. He didn't answer because that meant he would have to explain that Fury had given it to him before telling him not to trust anyone. She might take that as he didn't trust her, which couldn't be further from the truth. Everything he did was in an effort to protect her. It might have been the wrong choice, but it was the one he made in the moment.

"Anyway, Dawson figured out that it led to the camp. So..." she trailed off, not really knowing how to finish her story. She gestured to him with her hand, "That's how I found you." she sighed, giving him a small, apologetic smile almost like she was afraid he would be mad at her for doing what she did.

"And where's Dawson now?" he asked. She shrugged, glancing in her rearview mirror to change lanes before answering.

"I don't know. He said he had to go right some wrongs." she mimicked him, making his voice deeper, "And left me with the Tesla and coordinates for the camp and then a safe house." she gestured to the tablet screen that was set up in the center console. "It's where we're going now."

"No, we shouldn't." he shook his head, voice serious, "It's probably a SHIELD safe house, which means it's not actually safe." he pointed out, "Not for us at least." she didn't respond, twisting her mouth to the side and looking uncertain. He felt like he had hit a nerve; he knew how SHIELD had been her safe haven for such a long time and now it suddenly wasn't.

"What happened, Steve?" she asked quietly. His silence filled the car and made her nervous. Did he not trust her anymore? Had she done something to break his trust? Or was what he found out just too much, he felt like he couldn't tell even her?

Before she could open her mouth to ask, he took in a deep breath and then started from the beginning. He told her all about his meeting with Pierce, about what happened in the elevator, what he did after he ran away from her, the hospital where he met up with Nat and then their adventure to the mall and finally what happened in the bunker. He answered all of the questions she rapid fire asked him a few minutes earlier. Q listened intently, reacting when she should or asking follow-up questions when they were necessary. If they weren't a car driving away from a bunker that had been blown up by the government, he would think it was just another one of their sessions. But it was so much more than that.

As Steve discussed what they found in the bunker before they were blown up, her world began to crumble. She wasn't even sure he realized what his words were doing to her. Each felt like another crack in a mirror that reflected her life for the past almost ten years. Working for SHIELD made her believe she was doing something good for once in her life - making up for all the terrible things she had done. The crimes she had committed, both literally and figuratively. She had put her trust and had basically given her life to the agency. And yet, it had Hydra running through its veins ever since the beginning.

"So you're telling me that SHIELD, who shot a missile at you, has actually been Hydra this entire time." she summarized quietly after he finished repeating what Zola's computer consciousness had told him. While she knew of Operation Paperclip, it was a very hush hush topic - no one ever discussed it publicly. It was just common SHIELD knowledge and something that was ages ago, that she thought didn't apply to her presently. She hadn't found out which members were Hydra and which weren't - that had been made clear when she found out about Rumlow. If anything, all of it proved she was terrible at her job. Maybe that's why they kept her around.

"Not entirely. But Hydra had a much bigger influence than they let on after the Operation." he explained, but pretty much agreed with her. She let out a slow breath, blinking quickly in an effort to control the tears that were threatening to fall.

"Which means you basically died for nothing!" she suddenly cried out, voice a little bit raw. "Everything you fought for, died for. What you sacrificed in an effort to stop Hydra…" she trailed off, "And it didn't matter." she finished with a heavy sigh. He let out a little scoff before following it up with a resigned sigh. She glanced at him, thrown off by his reaction, "How can you be okay with this?" she asked, a bit dumbfounded. He took in a breath and gave her a small smile,

"Because I didn't die for nothing." he repeated her with a slight shake of his head, "You know they say I saved the world right?" he asked, a joking tone to his question. She let out a snort and rolled her eyes.

"Still." she glanced over at him, "I'm sorry, Steve. I know you thought you got the job done." she apologized with a sympathetic smile. He returned it before looking back at the dashboard. She had referenced the final thought he had after the Valkyrie hit the iceberg all those years ago.

A while ago, he had told her what it had been like when he "died." How the initial impact didn't knock him out, instead giving him time to slowly succumb to the icy tundra. How the bomber began to shift and sink into the water, but not fast enough that he would drown. Instead, it took it's time, letting him feel himself begin to freeze. The temperature causing the healing process to slow to a stop. The pads of his fingers were prickly with what felt like small icicles, his teeth chattering so hard he was sure they would shatter against each other. No one was coming for him - or if they were, it would be too late.

So he laid himself down, trying any possible way to get comfortable as he accepted his fate. He had regrets, sure, he always would. But he had gotten the job done. Or so he thought as the numbness took over his consciousness, letting him slip away for the next seventy years.

A sniffle got his attention and he turned his head to see Q wiping her hand under her eyes, almost like she had been crying. He had almost forgotten how much this affected her as well. Having been reminded that he had crashed Valkyrie with the expectation that it would end Hydra all together, he had been stuck in his own pity party, completely ignoring her feelings in the process.

In an effort to comfort her, he reached over to take her hand in his. He ran his thumb over her knuckles, getting her to look away from the road to meet his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Queenie." he softly, but seriously said, "I know how much of a shock this must be for you too." she managed a small smile, nodding a bit.

"Yeah, well, shame on me for thinking that I could do something good with my life to make up for all the bad I've done." she tried to make a joke, but there was too much truth to it. How was she supposed to reconcile with this? With finding out that she was still on the wrong side?

"You didn't know." he shook his head a bit, trying to emulate her and what she did whenever he was getting down on himself for something that wasn't his fault, "You aren't at fault for this." she took in a shaky breath, wanting to believe him. But the guilt of who she had been associated with, what she had done for them, was weighing down on her chest.

Years of work flipped through her mind as she tried to find some sort of tell in any of her previous projects that would've alerted her to the nasty organization she was truly working for. Nothing jumped out at her, which didn't mean she didn't do anything bad - just that if she had, they had found some way to spin it so she wouldn't be aware of it.

"And for the record," Steve pulled her back to the present, "you have done a lot of good things. For me." he said, giving her a slight smile. She tried not to smile, rolling her eyes at his sappiness.

"That was part of my job." she defended herself. He let out a slight scoff.

"So what happened last night was part of your job?" he asked, almost teasingly. She grinned at him.

"Yes, actually." she bobbed her head in a nod, "Having sex is practically a rite of modern man passage, Steven. Plus it lowers your blood pressure, reduces stress, boosts confidence and releases high levels of dopamine." she rattled off, hiding behind her research. His grin spread; sometimes it amused him how she got so medical when she was trying to hide her real feelings. She paused before glancing at him with a wry smile, "And besides, we needed to make sure that you weren't awkward when the right girl came along."

"The right girl is sitting right next to me." he immediately responded sincerely, almost intensely. She met his eyes, surprised by what he said and rendered speechless for a few moments. Her heart was burning again; no one had ever thought she was the right person for them. And he just said it - out loud with an unconscious Nat in the backseat, and he meant it. After everything that happened, he still had those same feelings that he had both told and shown her the night before. Thank God.

With a scoff, she went to pull her hand away, not knowing how to respond properly to something like that. But before she could return her hand to the wheel, he reached out and grabbed it again. He wrapped his hand around hers, bringing it to his face to kiss the top of her hand softly, repeating the action a few times before letting their hands intertwine and settle on his thigh. For the situation they were in, the action itself was made to be much more intimate than it would be any other time, but it felt natural and right.

"I'm glad you're okay, Queenie." he said softly, truthfully. He was so relieved to see her - unharmed and coming to save him even if she shouldn't have. He wouldn't know what he would've done if SHIELD had hurt her or used her in any way to get to him. He cared about her too much to lose her.

Her eyes left the road so she could meet his and give him a small smile. After everything that happened in the past few hours, even the smallest smile, spreading across her ash stained face, was the most beautiful thing he had seen that day.

"I'm glad you're okay too." she squeezed his hand a bit before returning her eyes to the road. He laid his head back against the seat, watching the scenery go by in a blur.

While there was still so much that they hadn't figured out yet: the algorithm, what Hydra was planning on doing with it... he felt sort of at peace simply by having her by his side, holding his hand. He was a little more confident that they were going to be able to figure it out. She was the puzzlemaster after all and that's all this was: one giant puzzle.

With every run of his thumb over her knuckles, she started to relax a bit more. Being without him, not knowing what was going on or where he was or what he was doing stressed her out. But now that he was sitting beside her, unharmed to a degree, the fear that gripped her while she was in the camp faded away. She knew there was still so much they had to figure out, but she reminded herself of her plan she had come up with during her original road trip: to take it one step at time. She found Steve, so now it was time to figure out what was next.

"Where to now?" he asked, quietly. He glanced over the back of the seat to see that Nat was slowly coming to. She winced as she felt the pain from the blast, then let out a small groan. Q eyes shifted to the rearview mirror, where she could get a look at Nat before quickly looking back at the road.

While she wanted to go to the safe house Dawson had plugged in, she knew Steve was right: if it was SHIELD sanctioned safe house, there was no way they would know it would be truly safe. Unfortunately, from what she had gathered from Steve's stories, they couldn't be in contact with anyone from SHIELD - damn how she wished Dawson would've just stayed with her for the rest of the day.

"Well, since everyone we know is trying to kill us…" she trailed off with a sad laugh. It was depressing to know they couldn't go to anyone who they had worked with for so long. More so for Q than Steve though. He thought to himself for a moment before coming up with an option.

"What about Sam? The guy from the Veterans' Association?" he asked, knowing it was a long shot. She did a double take, knowing he had taken a liking to Sam, but not realizing he would be on the top of Steve's list of allies. But then again, with an unknown amount of people in SHIELD belonging to Hydra, it made sense; Sam had no ties to SHIELD.

"Any chance you can find out where he lives?" he continued with a slight eyebrow raise. Q licked her lips, tilting her head to the side,

"I actually already did a full recon on him." she admitted, "Background, federal, tax, employment -"

"So you know where he lives?" he cut her off with a slight grin, obviously amused that she had done so much research on a potential new friend for him. When she noticed his reaction, a small blush spread across her cheeks.

"Yes, yeah, I know where he lives." she laughed a little.

Not wanting to take her hand away from his, she pulled up her legs a little so she could keep the car steady with her thighs. Using her other, free hand, she tapped at the tablet on the console, plugging in Sam's address.

Hopefully, he would be okay with three SHIELD fugitives appearing out of the blue on his doorstep.


	42. hydra's plan

By the time they got to Sam's house, morning had broke. It had been a full twenty four hours since everything had begun to spiral out of control and it hadn't slowed down for a moment. Time didn't feel real anymore. And now, they were at some stranger's house, hoping he would let them crash until they could figure out a plan of action.

None of them wanted to draw attention to themselves, so they ignored the front door in favor of a side window. Natasha leaned on Steve, still regaining some of her strength after what happened in the bunker. He had an arm around her waist and checked over his shoulder to make sure Q was okay behind them. She was, carrying her backpack full of stolen goods and glancing around every so often to make sure no one on the street was lingering for too long. Not that there were many people out and about at eight am to begin with.

With a knock on the window, the three of them waited a moment until the blinds were pulled up and Sam opened it. He was obviously confused - why wouldn't he be? Three strangers, covered in ash and dust, looking like they just came from a war, were standing at his window in the early morning.

"Hey, man." he greeted Steve first, sounding wary. His eyes flicked over the other two who were flocking him on either side.

"I'm sorry about this." Steve immediately apologized, knowing it wasn't polite to just show up unannounced at someone's window, "But we need a place to lay low."

"Everyone we know is trying to kill us." Nat chimed in, voice rough from lack of use and inhalation of smoke. Sam stared at them for a moment before taking a cursory look around above their heads. He let out a sigh and stepped to the side,

"Not everyone." he responded as a way of inviting them inside his house. Steve helped Nat through the space before following after her, Q bringing up the rear, "Guest room's down the hall. There's a bathroom with towels and whatever else you need." he explained, gesturing down the hall. The group mumbled out their thanks before heading down the hall to the bedroom.

Q went over to the bed, setting her backpack down as Steve checked out the bathroom. Natasha moved over to one of the chairs, lowering herself down and watching as Q opened her backpack up. Her stomach rolled a bit as she realized how much she had stuffed into the backpack in her fit of of crazy.

"I managed to grab some clothes and other things." she started, pulling out random items, "I didn't know you were with him, Nat, but there's...a lot." she sighed, realizing how much she had actually took from the store.

"How'd you manage to fit all of that in there?" Nat asked, getting to her feet to look through the items both on the bed and still in the backpack. She winced, then pulled in her bottom lip.

"Practice." she answered quietly. Nat gave her an impressed look before grabbing a black tank top and a pair of black leather pants. She went into the bathroom as Steve was coming out, shutting the door behind her.

"You went shopping?" he asked, noticing all the items on the bed. Again, she winced. In the moment, she hadn't thought anything of stealing, but now that she was being forced to explain what she had done, she felt guilty about it.

"Sort of." she sighed out, glancing over to him to give him a timid smile. He nodded at her, understanding what she meant, but deciding not to press on it. It didn't matter; she had managed to get them fresh clothes.

Turning her attention back to the items on the bed, she gathered up a few pieces for him. A blue shirt, a pair of khakis and a jacket. She turned around, stepping up to him and holding out the clothes with another small smile. He returned it, taking the items from her. He glanced over his shoulder to where Nat was getting changed in the bathroom. As much as he wanted to take Q in his arms and hold her tight, he didn't want to risk Nat finding out about the two of them quite yet. It wasn't the right time.

And Q seemed to understand that; she brought her hand up to rest it against his heart, feeling it beat steady before walking past him. She exited the room to give the two of them some privacy to clean themselves up before she did.

The soft sound of jazz music mixing with the clear popping of something sizzling on the stove drifted down the hall from the kitchen. She followed the noises to see Sam standing by the stove, spatula in hand as he monitored three different pans set out on top of the stovetop.

"I would offer to help, but I don't think you want a fire this early in the morning." Q announced herself. He glanced over his shoulder and gave a slight laugh.

"I appreciate that, thanks." he responded with a nod of his head. She gave him a little smile before moving over to the breakfast bar, settling herself on one of the stools. "Find everything okay?" he asked with a slight tilt of his head back toward the guest bedroom. She nodded, keeping her straight posture on the stool.

"They're getting cleaned up now." she explained, "And I'm sorry for all of us just showing up out of the blue." she apologized again, even though Steve had earlier, "I know you probably weren't expecting this to be how your morning to go." He scoffed, but sounded amused by it.

"Oh no, this is exactly how I thought my morning was gonna go." he joked lightheartedly, sharing a smile with her. "I'm just glad I went grocery shopping yesterday. You guys eat breakfast, right?" he asked, looking over at her and motioning with his spatula.

"Surprisingly, yes." she grinned. He nodded, twirling the spatula in between his fingers before turning his attention back to the pans, "You seem pretty relaxed for a guy who's harboring three SHIELD fugitives. One of them being Captain America." she pointed out, leaning forward on her arms. He shrugged,

"Well, you know, when you're the Treasurer of the Captain America fan club…" he trailed off, referencing their conversation they had a few days ago.

"Duty calls." she finished for him with a grin. He nodded in agreement, scrambling up the eggs in the pan. "Thank you, Sam, for letting us crash." she said after a moment, realizing she had yet to express her gratitude. If he had turned them away, they'd still be on the run, which increased their chances of getting caught.

"No problem, no problem." he pulled down the corners of his mouth and shook his head a bit, "Clearly you guys are in some sort of trouble…" he trailed off for a moment, glancing at her appearance, "But if there's anything I can do to help, I'll do it." he assured her with a warm smile. She returned it as he turned back to the stove. She liked Sam and could see why Steve was instantly attracted to him. He was a good person, eager to help and not one to turn away those in need - even if it meant endangering himself.

"So you're with SHIELD, huh?" he asked, continuing the conversation. "Explains the power suit." he motioned to her with his spatula, making her look down at herself. Her suit was ripped and stained with dirt and ash and she realized how dirty she was … and she was sitting on his perfectly clean stool.

"Yes...well, no...maybe." she squinted a bit, not sure how to answer his question. Too much had happened in the past twenty-four hours for her to be sure of anything regarding SHIELD or her position, "I'm not with SHIELD now, but I was." she settled on, pushing herself off the stool, "And now they're trying to kill us, so…" she trailed off with a sigh.

"Sucks." Sam plainly put it, making her laugh a little.

"Yeah, pretty much." she sighed again. They were quiet for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts, but the silence was comfortable. She picked at her nails, noticing how much dirt and grime were under them. She knew she should get changed - cleaned up a little and wearing a fresh set of clothes.

"Go. Get cleaned up." he got her attention, almost like he could tell what she was thinking, "I'm just finishing up here." he motioned to the pans, "Should be ready in a few minutes." she gave him a grateful smile.

"Thanks, Sam." he nodded at her before turning back to the stove. She exited the kitchen and headed back down to the bedroom.

Nat was drying her hair with a hand towel, clean of any dirt or residue from what happened at the base. She gave Q a small smile and then glanced away from her, almost like she had interrupted her thoughts. She wasn't sure if Nat had seen anything that had happened between Steve and her in the car - she hadn't said anything or done anything to allude to the fact that she had. And Q wasn't about to bring it up now. There was no need for her to know about whatever was going on between her and Steve.

Not saying anything to her, Q moved over to grab a pair of skinny jeans, a white t-shirt and a blazer/hoodie combo. Turning to side, she saw Steve step out of the bathroom in a white tank top and the same pair of pants he had been wearing all night.

"Mind if I…" she trailed off, gesturing to the bathroom.

"All yours." he nodded, stepping to the side to let her in. She gave him a small smile before walking into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her.

With a click, she locked it and went over to the sink. Her reflection stared back at her and for the first time all night, she got a good look at herself. Her face was stained with ash and dust, almost covering up the large dark bags under her eyes. Her hair was in knots, tangled up and streaked grey from the explosion at the base. She knew her work suit was torn up, but God it looked even more terrible than she had imagined. She had never looked worse.

At that moment, taking her reflection in and thinking about everything that had happened, made her want to do nothing but break down and cry. She was tired and emotional - having been up and active for twenty-four hours with a mess of different things having happened to her. Usually she could be fine on such a long period without sleep, but that was when her job included nothing by writing up reports or analyzing data, not running around God's green Earth trying to track down a super soldier and a super spy.

All her body wanted to do was collapse into a puddle of tears or get into the tub and fall asleep for a few minutes. But there wasn't time to breakdown or cry or even sleep. They needed to figure out SHIELD/Hydra's plan and stop it from happening.

Staring at herself in the mirror, she forced herself not to cry. She could see the tears beginning to prick at the corners of her eyes and she leaned closer to the mirror as if that would help her focus on not crying. She took in a deep breath and held it, grip tightening on the corners of the sink before she let out the breath slowly, making sure she was in control of her emotions. She needed to be.

She turned on the sink and let the water run as she stripped out of her dirty clothes. Using a washcloth, she quickly wiped down her face and body, wanting to get as much of the dirt and grime off of her. She changed into the t-shirt and jeans - a welcome change from the ratty business suit she had been wearing for such a long time. She opened up the sink drawers to find a hair tie or something to pull back her hair, also finding a straightener, hair dryer and curler. Sam obviously knew how to take care of his overnight guests.

Cleaning herself up and changing into a fresh outfit made her feel a bit better than she did when she entered the bathroom. The tiredness subsided a bit, as did her urge to cry - both floating to the back of her mind and being replaced by more important things. She folded up her things and cleaned up the mess she had made in the sink area before stepping out of the bathroom.

Instead of both Nat and Steve, only Steve was waiting for her. He was shirtless, in the pair of khakis she had stolen with the t-shirt in his hands, like he was about to put it on, but stopped when she came out.

"Sam made breakfast." he greeted her with a tilt of his head toward the doorway. She looked over to where he had nodded to, as if Sam were going to be there, but there wasn't anyone there.

"Right, well, I'm starving so…" she trailed off, feeling a little awkward for some reason. The awkwardness had started as soon as they stepped out of the car. She didn't know why she was feeling so weird around him - maybe she was just tired, but she felt like whatever moment they had shared in the car had just been fueled by almost dying.

Now, it was like they were faced with the effect of their actions before everything had all happened and what it meant going forward. A morning after, "what are we" talk, which she never looked forward to. But, again, there wasn't time to have it. It wasn't appropriate to with everything going on.

Steve pulled on his shirt and adjusted it before stepping over to her. The expression on his face gave away that he was concerned about her. She tried to compose herself, giving him a small smile as he placed his hands on her arms.

"Everything okay?" he asked, tilting his chin down, brow furrowing a bit.

"Yeah, yeah…" she trailed off with a nod, "Just tired. Been a long day...days." she corrected herself, raising her eyebrows a bit. He took her excuse and nodded, rubbing her arms for a moment.

"You'll feel better when you get something to eat." he assured her with a slight smile. She laughed a little,

"I always do." she agreed before stepping out of his grasp.

Steve followed her down the hall to the kitchen where Sam was setting out plates of food and Nat was already beginning to pick at a few things. He grabbed a coffee cup, filling it up as Q went to get her own plate. She piled her plate up with food before sitting down in one of the chairs at the table. Steve settled down next to her, handing her a water and seeing her grimace before ignoring him and going for the orange juice - she'd rather fruit juice than water or coffee.

"You all look a hell of a lot better." Sam commented as he grabbed a few things for his plate. All of them smiled a bit at the quasi-compliment before Steve sighed,

"Well, it's been an eventful twenty-four hours." he responded before launching into what happened at Camp Lehigh.

Even with everything that had happened, Q was kind of proud of how open he was being with Sam. How he was easily talking about what happened at SHIELD, then how they ended up at the camp and what happened after. He wasn't letting himself stew in his own guilt or keeping everything to himself - instead bringing in people who could help him work through it. He had learned how good it could be to talk it out and how that could lead to answers.

"So, the question is, who at SHIELD could launch a domestic missile strike?" Natasha asked after Steve had finished recounting the previous events. She leaned against the breakfast bar with her hands behind her as Sam buttered another piece of toast.

"Pierce." Steve answered, looking over at where Q sat beside him, chewing on her fourth piece of bacon.

"Who happens to be sitting on top of the most secure building in the world." she reminded him, talking with her mouth full as she looked back at Nat, who moved to stand at the head of the table by Steve's chair.

"But he's not working alone. Zola's algorithm was on the Lemurian Star." Steve pointed out.

"So was Jasper Sitwell." Nat realized, crossing her arms over her chest. He looked away from Q to look at her, eyebrows raising up as he thought it through.

"So, the real question is, how do the three most wanted people in Washington kidnap a SHIELD officer in broad daylight?" he asked aloud, staring off into space for a moment.

"The answer is, you don't." Sam piped up, moving from behind the breakfast bar with something in his hand, which he promptly tossed onto the table.

"What's this?" he asked, shifting forward in his seat - the girls doing the same.

"Call it a resume." Sam responded, stepping back to put his hands on his hips.

"Is this Bakhmala?" Nat asked, grabbing the picture that was on top of the file folder as Steve got to his feet, both of them looking over it, "The Khalid Khandil mission, that was you?" Sam nodded and she looked back down to the picture, "You didn't say he was a Pararescue." she looked at Q, who made a face and shrugged. No one had ever asked.

"Is this Riley?" Steve asked, seeing the second person in the photo - another nod from Sam.

"I heard they couldn't bring in the choppers because of the RPGs." Nat butted in, still talking about the mission, "What did you use? A stealth chute?"

"No. These." he picked up the folder that was underneath, one stamped with the same verbiage Q had seen in her recon on Sam earlier in the week. She hadn't shared it with Steve - not having the time to, but he read over the file, getting to the same conclusion he would've if she had.

"I thought you said you were a pilot." he looked over at Sam with a slight eyebrow raise.

"I never said pilot." Sam smirked, shaking his head a bit with his arms crossed over his chest.

"I can't ask you to do this, Sam." he said after a moment's pause, his brow furrowed and he shook his head, "You got out for a good reason." he pointed out, knowing what Sam was offering to do. He couldn't have another person risk their life and safety for him - there were already too many people in the room who had.

"Dude, Captain America needs my help." he laughed slightly as if that was all that mattered, "There's no better reason to get back in." his tone made it clear that he was serious. Steve nodded at him, looking back down at the file for a moment. It never failed to make him feel some type of way whenever someone decided he was worth it - worth risking everything to help him. It had happened first with Peggy, then with the Howling Commandos, again with Q and Nat and now with Sam. He wasn't sure if he was worth it, but they sure thought he was.

"Where can we get our hands on one of these things?" he asked, raising the folder up and returning his attention back to Sam.

"The last one is at Fort Meade." he sighed, "Behind three guarded gates and a 12-inch steel wall." Q tried to mask the smirk tugging at her lips, clearly he had tried to steal the suit before, but had only gotten so far. Steve and Nat exchanged a glance, then he looked over to Q, who shrugged. With the team they had, they could break into someplace like Fort Meade.

"Shouldn't be a problem." Steve assured him. Sam let out a light laugh, almost like he was amazed that they were so quick to jump at the opportunity to help him steal a suit from a place like Fort Meade.

Splitting up again was the best option. It was the worst option, but it was also the best option. They could cover more ground in pairs than traveling as one big group - plus it meant less eyes on them. While Steve and Nat were breaking into Fort Meade, Q and Sam were tracking down Sitwell. It would take Steve and Nat a little over two hours to get Sam's gear, which gave the other two plenty of time to find Sitwell.

"So you know this guy?" Sam asked as Q drove back into the city. They had left about an hour after the others, Q staying to help clean up a bit from their breakfast and Sam getting changed before they headed out.

"Not personally." she sighed out, knowing it would be easier if she did. While she had met Sitwell a few times, it wasn't enough to know his daily routine like the back of her hand. And since the reveal of those who were secretly Hydra, she didn't feel very confident in her people reading skills anymore. But she knew enough about him - who he interacted with, where he ate lunch, what he did at SHIELD, to help her start to find a routine within the mess.

"But I can work with what I have." she finished, trying to sound confident in herself, even though she wasn't really.

"What exactly did you do for SHIELD?" he asked, looking over at her.

"I was a Trends and Patterns analyst, focused on people. I read people, basically. Figured out their daily routines, analyzed their relationships, looked at their reactions to events, and then used it all to predict their next move." she explained with a wave of her hand. He nodded to himself for a moment,

"So you're literally a people person." he commented, making her laugh a little.

"Sure." she sighed, settling her hand back on the wheel. They were quiet for a moment before he spoke again,

"I guess that means you've already read me like an open book." he said, getting her to glance at him and see his curious expression. She shrugged, making a face.

"Just basic recon…" she trailed off, not wanting to get into it. She had learned that most people didn't like what she had to say about them; most often it was the truth and people hated hearing the truth (herself included sometimes), "But that was only to make sure you weren't a threat to Steve." she added as an afterthought. He chuckled, looking down at his hands,

"How could I possibly be a threat to a guy like him?" he asked, a little amused by the insinuation. She shrugged, glancing over to him.

"Maybe not physically, but…" he laughed again and she tried not to smile, "No, you're not. You're not." she assured him, "I just...the guy needs friends." she grimaced a bit and Sam chuckled, "And I wanted to make sure you were a good guy, which you are." she repeated herself, "Especially after today."

"Yeah, well, I don't like the idea of having a bunch of helicarriers in the sky with guns pointed at us at all times." he explained and she nodded in agreement. He shifted in his seat, leaning against the passenger side door a bit more, "Alright, so where do we find this guy?" he asked, moving on.

Taking in a breath, she tried to think to the last time she had met with Sitwell. It had been a while, but people kept their routines because they were familiar and comfortable. She figured if he was Hydra, he would be more attentive to making sure things were going as planned which could mean a change in routine - meetings with others to update on progress, staying at the Triskelion longer to make sure no one was aware of the Hydra infiltration, etc. They would just have to take it one step at a time.

"What day is it?" she asked aloud. With everything that had happened, her days were starting to jumble.

"Sunday." he answered, making her curse. A weekend. She hated weekends. People usually kept to their routine during the week, but sometimes the weekend could be a whole different story. Things came up, events happened, people were in town...shit.

"Okay, well," she glanced at the clock, seeing that it was too late for them to check the morning coffee spot he always went to. The emblem was stamped across his to-go cup rather largely so it was hard to miss. They obviously couldn't go to the Triskelion to hunt him down, so the next possible time to catch him was when he went to lunch.

She tried to think of times she had seen him before or after lunch. The people he was with, the different carry-out bags he came back with or the food he talked about having. She knew he always went off the island for lunch, complaining about the food trucks that were scattered around the campus. Sometimes he had lunch with Coulson or other higher ranking officials. It would be easier if she could just get into his calendar.

Pulling the car off to the side of the road, she put it in park and reached for the tablet. Sam's eyes were on her the whole time as she clicked on one of the icons for Dawson's calendars. Everyone used the same calendar program, but with different logins. If she could just figure her way into Sitwell's...

"What are you doing?" Sam asked as she logged out and re-logged in with Sitwell's username - it was just his first initial and last name, same for everyone.

"I'm no Dawson, but I can figure my way into a calendar." she mumbled out, expecting Sam to understand the reference, even though he had never met Dawson. "People use the same passwords for all their accounts. Makes it easier to remember." she rattled off her basic understanding of people and passwords, "Usually it's a street or a pet name - "

"And what if it's not?" he cut her off. She grinned at the screen that came up, flipping the tablet over to show him,

"Security questions." she answered him. This much she could figure out - since he chose the most basic questions with answers she already knew, thanks to her job. Father's name (Jasper; he was a legacy name), favorite color (blue; he always wore a blue tie), and hometown (Norfolk; she had heard him talking about going home for the holidays).

"Done and done, let's see where you're at, you little shit." she mumbled out, scrolling down to the day on his calendar, "He's having lunch with Senator Stern at Occidental." she found out, reading off the calendar.

"You couldn't have done that earlier?" he asked, with a raise of his eyebrows. She shrugged, not responding as she set the tablet back up and pulled out into traffic.

Sitwell's car wasn't there yet, but she was sure he would be pulling up soon. It gave them time to come up with a plan. The restaurant was nestled underneath what looked liked an apartment building and there were a few other shops and cafes dotting along the area. It seemed to be quite the meeting place for business and government people; so many of them were dressed in suits and shaking hands, talking loudly to make it clear to whoever else was around that they were important. She parked the car in the lot across the street, giving them access to the entrance of the restaurant.

"What's the plan?" Sam asked as they sat there for a moment. She was quiet for a moment, thinking of one that would work. They needed to get Sitwell to a secure location, someplace where he would talk.

Before she could answer, her phone buzzed with a text from Steve. He was checking in. They had been able to get Sam's gear and were on their way back. She relayed the message to Sam before deciding to call Steve to figure out a plan together. He picked up on the first ring,

"Everything okay?" he asked, sounding concerned.

"Yeah, yep." she put the phone on speaker so Sam could hear, "Sitwell has a lunch with Senator Stern in a few minutes. We're outside the restaurant now, trying to come up with a plan." she explained, hoping he would have some insight.

"Of course they've got a Senator under their thumb too." Nat's voice came through, sounding disgusted, "God, I hate Washington."

"We can't grab him with the Senator around." Q pointed out, "He'll have security with him."

"Right, so after the lunch then. That'll give us time to get back and get to a meeting point." Steve agreed. "What's around you guys that could work?"

"There's a parking garage a few blocks up." Sam offered, "Take him up there…" he trailed off, figuring everyone knew what he was insinuating. It was part of the reason why the others had gone to break into Fort Meade.

"That could work." she agreed, making a face and nodding at Sam,

"But how do you get him to get in the car?" Steve asked and Nat laughed in the background.

"Fear can be a very good motivator." she reminded him. He was quiet on the other line.

"This is Hydra, Steve." Q pointed out, "They've done a lot of terrible things. We aren't doing anything but scaring him." He let out a breath and she could practically picture him nodding,

"Okay, yeah…"

"Do you know how to spoof a phone number?" Nat asked, overlapping with him. She looked at Sam, who made a noise which she took as he didn't know.

"I'm sure I could figure it out if you walk me through it." she said confidently. Nat laughed a little.

"That's my girl, suit."

An hour later, Sam and Q were seated at an outside table at the cafe across from the restaurant they had seen Sitwell walk into and then Senator Stern a few moments after hanging up with Steve and Natasha. They had ordered food - Steve was right, she did feel better while she was eating. It kept her mind off of certain things and gave her the energy she was missing from lack of sleep. From there, they waited, finalizing their plan in the process: once Sitwell and Stern left, Q would go across the street to help spook him while Sam talked to him. Then they would drive Sitwell to the parking garage where Steve and Nat would be waiting.

"That's our cue." Sam murmured as the group exited the restaurant. Q sighed and stuffed the rest of her bagel into her mouth before getting up.

"Good luck." she tapped her bluetooth before going over to where she was supposed to be stationed. Nat helped them connect the bluetooth she found in the car to Sam's phone so she would be able to hear the conversation in case anything went wrong.

A few minutes later, she watched as Sitwell answered his phone, noticing how his posture adjusted at the thought of it being Pierce calling him. She heard Sam's voice in her ear, smooth as ever as he semi-threatened him. She was impressed by how quickly he was able to get Sitwell's attention. It was like he had done this before. Then, at the right moment, with a click of the laser pointer, Q aimed it at Sitwell's tie, seeing the little red dot appear against the material. Sitwell glanced down, then back up, trying to figure out where the "sniper" was.

Falling for it, Sitwell did as Sam told him and started to make his way down the stairs and around the corner to where the Tesla was parked. She caught up with him as he did, looping her arm through his elbow and holding tight. He did a double take at the action and then tensed at the sight of her.

"Agent Proctor," he grumbled out, seemingly annoyed, "Of course you're involved with this." she took in a breath and glanced around, making sure none of his security had realized what had happened to him. Sam was a few paces behind them and he gave her a nod before she turned back to Sitwell.

"You made me a wanted fugitive." she managed out through gritted teeth.

"You should be used to that though, right?" he cockily said. She stopped walking abruptly, yanking him back by the arm as hard as she could and he let out a cry of pain. Glaring at him, she shoved him away from her and toward the Tesla that was waiting.

"Get in the car." she ordered, sternly. He let out a laugh and shook his head.

"No offense, but you don't seem capable of doing what I think it is you want to do, Proctor." she ignored him for a moment, reaching around and pulling open the door of the car before forcing him in the backseat.

"You have no idea what I'm capable of." she threatened before slamming the car door in his face.

"We good?" Sam asked as he came up to her. She let out a breath and swiped a loose hair away from her face.

"Yeah, let's go." she waved her hand in the air before moving around the driver's side while Sam got into the passenger seat.

Once they got to the parking garage, Q passed Sitwell off to Steve. He grabbed him by the collar and forced him through the door to the roof. Nat followed behind while Q stayed with Sam to make sure all his gear was intact.

"Tell me about Zola's algorithm." he spat out, marching toward him as Sitwell scrambled back.

"Never heard of it." he answered, fumbling with his glasses. Steve didn't let up, walking toward him as he continued to walk back, getting closer and closer to the edge of the roof

"What were you doing on the Lemurian Star?" he asked, his Captain tone slipping out.

"I was throwing up. I get seasick." Sitwell stuttered out. His heel hit the edge of the roof and he lost his balance, flailing back for a moment before Steve grabbed him by the lapels. There was a tense moment of silence as he stared at him for a long while. Then Sitwell smirked, obviously amused by what was going on, "Is this little display meant to insinuate that you're gonna throw me off the roof? Cause it's really not your style, Rogers." he laughed, trying to mask his fear.

"You're right." Steve pulled him back up, smoothing down where he grabbed him, "It's not. It's hers." he stepped to the side. Nat came up beside him and planted a well placed kick into Sitwell's chest - forcing him back off the roof. His screams echoed as he fell, but neither one of them paid any mind to them,

"What about that girl from Accounting, Laura…" Nat trailed off, circling back to the conversation they had during the Lemurian Star mission. Sitwell must've reminded her that she was supposed to be setting him up with someone - though she didn't know he already had someone.

"Lillian." Steve corrected her, "Lip piercing, right?" he motioned to his mouth, remembering the times he had seen her since the first time they met. She still had that lip piercing in, but Q had told him it was a style now, something trendy. Still weird to him.

"Yeah, she's cute." Nat pointed out.

"Yeah. I'm not ready for that." he sighed, hands going into his pockets. While it was true, he also wasn't interested in Lillian; he had Q.

Sitwell's screams were beginning to get louder as Sam came flying back up, holding him in one hand, by the arm. The door to the parking garage opened and Q came hurrying out as he dropped Sitwell on the ground like a sack of potatoes. Q stood beside Sam as Steve and Nat stalked over to where Sitwell was catching his breath. He put up his hand to stop their advance, quickly telling them what they wanted to know so that he wouldn't be hurt anymore.

"Zola's algorithm… is a program for… choosing Insight's targets!" he sputtered out, trying to catch his breath at the same time.

"What targets?" Steve asked back, wanting more details.

"You! A TV anchor in Cairo, the Secretary of Defense, a high school Valedictorian in Iowa City, Bruce Banner, Stephen Strange, anyone who's a threat to HYDRA. Now, or in the future." Sitwell quickly rattled off a few examples.

"In the future? How could it know?" he asked, confused by what he meant. Sitwell let out a sad laugh. Dread rolled over Q's entire being; she knew how it could. The same way she knew: through bank records, medical histories, voting patterns, emails, phone calls….except this was a machine, it could be focused on a larger group of people at one time, rather than just one person at a time like she was.

"...Zola's algorithm evaluates people's past to predict their future." Sitwell finished explaining almost haughtily as he got to his feet. Steve's eyes flicked over to Q, knowing it sounded a lot like what Q had done in the past for SHIELD. Hell, she had just told Sam a few hours earlier that she did the exact same thing as Zola's algorithm. She chewed on her bottom lip, hating how they had basically just made a machine to do her job - but with terrible consequences. She wasn't even offended like some would be at being replaced by a machine because this...this wasn't a machine, but a kill squad. She never used the information she found at SHIELD to kill anyone.

"And what then?" Steve asked out. Sitwell swallowed and looked off to the side as if he suddenly realized what he was doing: giving up Hydra's plan.

"Oh my God. Pierce is gonna kill me." he muttered out with a heavy sigh.

"What then?" Steve asked out a bit more aggressively, taking a step forward. Sitwell took a step back, but Sam grabbed the shoulder of his jacket, making it so he couldn't go anywhere. He paused for a moment before looking back at Steve.

"Then the Insight helicarriers scratch people off the list. A few million at a time." he said with an air of finality.


	43. run

Since there wasn't enough room in either car to fit all of them, Q decided to drive separately. With only sixteen hours until the Insight helicarriers were set to launch, the plan was to get back to the Triskelion, use Sitwell to bypass the DNA scan and access the helicarriers directly. While another, easier option would be to use Dawson - Q had no idea where he was nor was he answering his phone.

Glancing in her rearview mirror, she saw that Sam's car was still behind her. They were following her back to the Triskelion from the parking garage where they interrogated Sitwell. Or rather, Steve interrogated him. She had to say, seeing him use his Captain Voice in real life made her feel very attracted him. There was something about a man who could command a room...or rather a person and get the desired information out of them.

Not wanting to get too distracted by thoughts of Steve using his Captain Voice on her, she returned her attention back to the road. They still had a bit to go before they made it to the Triskelion. Thankfully, it was the middle of the afternoon on a Sunday which meant there was barely any traffic on the causeway.

In a few hours, all of this would be over. They would get to the Triskelion, stop the helicarriers and Hydra would be taken down - for good. She could relax, take a nap maybe, or maybe even get her job back at SHIELD. Things would return to normal. It would be as though nothing had ever happened.

Still wanting to make sure the others were behind her, she glanced in her rearview mirror again. Only this time she did a double take because - was that someone…on the roof of the car? Shooting into it? Why hadn't she heard the shots before? She reached to turn down the volume of her car radio, silencing the music and instead hearing the shattering of glass and crunching of metal against boot.

She tried to focus on both the road ahead of her and what was happening behind her. The sun glinted off something reflective...did he have a metal arm? She realized then that it had to be the same man who killed Fury. When Steve had relayed the information about Fury's shooter, it had gotten her attention; she had heard stories about an assassin with a metal arm. Sure, before, she thought they were just stories about a ghost, but here he was, twice in less than a week.

Suddenly, Sam's car stopped, throwing the guy who had been shooting off. Instinctively, she slammed her foot on the brake, as if that would help what was happening behind her. Horns were blaring at her, but she didn't pay attention to them, focusing on the scene in her rearview mirror. It looked like a standoff was happening between the car and the man, who had gotten to his feet - completely unscathed after being thrown off a moving car.

"Oh shit." Q muttered out as she saw the giant SHIELD Hummer coming up from behind, speeding up to slam into Sam's car and pitch them forward, moving them even if they weren't in drive.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" she cried out, quickly stepping on her gas to try and get out of the way. She kept glancing in her rearview mirror, but it was hard to tell what was even happening - everything was moving so fast.

Something slammed into the back corner of her car with enough force to send her spinning out. As she scrambled to try and regain control of the car, she quickly looked over her shoulder to see that it had been Sam's car careening out of control. She didn't know what the hell was happening inside the car itself, but it probably wasn't good considering the giant hole in the driver's side windshield and the lack of steering wheel. Turning back around front, she looked out the front windshield - a split second before the Tesla rammed into the divider, violently pitching her forward against the airbags and momentarily knocking her unconscious.

Again, the ringing in her ears returned, louder than after the explosion at the camp and somehow even more annoying. She groaned as she came to; her head was pounding and when she opened her eyes, the light was just too much. The airbag deflated a bit after she lifted herself out of it. Moving her neck slowly, she tried to crack it to release some of the pressure, opening her mouth wide to pop her ears as she did.

She blinked a bit, getting her vision to come back into focus, as she put together what happened. Pushing down the airbag with her hands, she saw how crunched up the front of the car was against the barrier. Oh, Dawson was going to kill her.

A loud crashing sound got her attention and she looked out the window - ignoring how her neck protested, to see Sam's car rolling past. Her stomach dropped when she remembered why she had crashed. Yes, partially because of her reckless driving, but also because Sam's car hit her because someone was on top of it.

Ignoring the glass that had shattered all around her, she quickly shoved the door open as far as it could before shimmying herself out. Her body ached, but she pushed through it; Steve had been in that car. She knew he was practically immortal, but it didn't mean he couldn't be wounded.

"Q!" she whirled around at the sound of him calling her name. The group was a few paces away from her. Steve standing there with his shield, Natasha by him and Sam was pushing himself up from the ground.

She went to help Sam to his feet, glancing over her shoulder to see the men getting out of the Hummer. They all lined up against the Hummer, almost like they were waiting for the man with the metal arm's orders. As he walked down the line, advancing toward them, she finally got a better look at him than she did in her rearview mirror.

Ignoring the very scary metal arm with the blood red star on the shoulder, there was a mask covering the lower half of his face and dark tinted goggles covering his face - no doubt so that no one would recognize him and he could keep his real identity a secret. Dark, stringy hair brushed alongside the goggles and face mask, coming to a stop around his cheeks. And even though he was still several feet away, she could practically tell he hadn't had a shower in a long while. He was dressed in tactical gear that was similar to the STRIKE team's gear, but completely modified at the same time. Kevlar and leather with an arm hole for his metal arm and about a thousand different sized utility belts and sheaths decorating his person. All holding weapons no doubt. He didn't look like a ghost, he looked like the devil.

One of the men handed him some sort of gun as he stalked toward the group. Sam grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the line of fire just in time. Because it wasn't just a gun - it was a fucking grenade launcher. The grenade he fired hit Steve's shield and exploded against it.

"Steve!" Q cried out as he was knocked back, flying off the bridge and disappearing onto the street below.

He had pushed Natasha away right before the launcher was fired and she used the force of the push to wrap her arms around Q, protecting her from any after effects. Then, almost on cue, the line of men who were in the Hummer opened fired on them with their semi-automatics. Natasha pulled Q behind one of the cars that had stopped and been deserted by its owner after being a victim of Sam's car rolling down the causeway.

While Q was busy covering her head and trying to protect herself from any stray bullets, Natasha was making quick work of some sort of gadget she must've picked up at Fort Meade. She wrapped it around Q's waist before clicking two things together, glancing over her shoulder every few seconds to see when there was a lapse in the gunfire.

"We have to get you off this bridge." she said hurriedly, pulling Q close to her. Q wasn't even able to respond, her senses were overloaded with everything that was happening. All she knew was one moment she had both feet on the ground and the next, she was teetering on the edge of the bridge with Nat's arms holding her.

"When your feet hit the ground, don't stop running." Natasha said seriously, the tone making Q snap to attention. She meet her eyes before looking down at where she was standing - why was she on the edge of the bridge? What was going on?

"Do you trust me?" Natasha asked, eyes locking with hers.

"No!" she shouted back, truthfully. Hurt flashed over her face, but only for a moment, and Q knew she would have to rectify her answer later, but there were people shooting at them and she was standing on the edge of a bridge with Natasha's hands against her shoulders.

"Well, you're gonna have to." she answered firmly before shoving Q back. She let out a long, loud scream of fear as she went falling off the bridge.

For a split second, she thought she was going to die and that Natasha had pushed her off the bridge to her death. She wouldn't have put it past her. Then she realized that she was attached to some sort of wire device, held together by the thing Natasha had wrapped around her waist, that was letting her slide down a safer way rather than just free falling. Her feet hit the ground and the wire immediately went slack to let her run. Which she did.

To her immediate left, there was an overturned bus that had been crashed into by a electrical truck and she saw people helping each other out of the bus. She ran over to help, trying not to pay attention to the sound of gunfire and explosions happening above her. Letting one young woman use her hand as a way to steady herself as she jumped out, she saw Steve passing an injured person over to another man. He was okay - a little battered, but at that point, weren't they all?

"Hey!" she called out, climbing into the bus where the woman had just gotten out. He did a double take as she helped someone to their feet, ushering them out of the hole in the bus.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, clearly worried and also a bit confused as to why she was on the bus with him. Of course he would be, the last time he saw her, she was on top of the bridge.

"I'm trying to help!" she yelled back over the loud explosion from above. People screamed in response.

"You gotta get out of here. It's not safe, Queenie!" he ignored her as he went over to another injured passenger.

"But, Steve -" she tried to reason with him; she could help! Sure she didn't have super soldier enhancements, a weapon or even a good right hook, but she wasn't completely useless. There had to be something she could do to help instead of just running away. He cut her off with a quick step over to her and then grabbed her by the shoulders.

"I'm not losing you, Q." he said seriously, eyes meeting hers. "Get to safety." his tone made it very clear that she was not to argue with him. His grip on her arms was tight and he shook her slightly, almost like he was trying shake some sense into her. She stared at him, wide eyed as his bright blue eyes bore into hers. His gaze was intense, stirring something inside of her at the thought of having to leave him behind so he could risk his life to protect others - her once again. No one had ever done that for her before; always leaving her to deal with the mess they created. But not Steve, never Steve.

So she nodded, knowing he wouldn't take no for an answer and not wanting him to worry about her when there were plenty of other things to worry about. She could handle herself. She had done it plenty of times before. His hands fell from her arms, looking semi-relieved that she had agreed. He stepped back from her, going to help someone else. With one last look, she took in a deep breath and turned around, going to help a couple of teenagers off the bus before jumping out after them.

Sharp gunfire that was coming from just a few feet away got her attention. She spun around to try and locate it, finding Natasha with both arms straight up, two handguns aimed up at the causeway. When had she gotten off the bridge? When had she gotten a gun? Much less two? Q had too many questions that she knew she would never get the answers to.

Making her way over to Natasha, she urgently advised the bystanders to move over to the sidewalks and clear out of the streets. Many people had gotten out of their cars to see what was going on, but if anything, they were at just as much of a risk at getting hurt too. She couldn't let that happen.

Suddenly gunfire rained down from above and Q quickly dove to the ground, doing an awkward attempt at an army-crawl over to where the electrical truck was. She kept one arm over her head as she pushed to her feet and went around the side of the truck, hoping that it would protect her.

"I thought I told you to run!" Natasha yelled out at her in between rounds. She didn't seem angry, just like she was stating a fact. Like how the weather was or the score of a local baseball game.

"I wanted to help!" Q yelled back over the rapid fire of the machine gun the man with the metal arm had.

"Well, you can help by running!" she looked at her with raised eyebrows before taking off down the street. Q followed suit, running after her.

Although it was stupid to, for the first few feet, she kept her eyes shut as she ran. Her head was ducked down and her arms were covering herself - as if that would protect her from whatever bullets would come their way. Adrenaline coursed through her body, propelling her to run faster and farther than she ever had in her life. She half-expected herself to collapse at any moment, but she didn't - her body only focused on getting her to safety.

Weaving through cars and shoving past people who were just standing in the middle of the fucking street - she tried to tell them to move but they didn't listen to her, (really did they want to get shot?) she tried to keep up with Natasha, but fuck she was just as fast as Steve was. Briefly, Q thought she could be another super soldier too. She had read those Red Room files...

The sounds of machine guns firing faded the further she ran from the causeway, but she didn't dare look over her shoulder for fear of what she might see. As much as she wanted to make sure Steve was okay, her prime focus had to be getting herself to safety. He made that very clear to her. And it helped her convince herself that running away wasn't selfish. She was doing it because he told her to.

A few blocks from the causeway was where Natasha began to slow. She turned, doubling back to grab Q's hand and tug her to the side of the street where abandoned cars were parked. Q watched the assassin fumble with her phone - for a woman who had been on countless missions and probably been in much more dangerous situations, she seemed a bit shaken. Still, she was in much better shape than Q was, bringing the phone up to her mouth to record something,

"Taking fire above and below expressway. Civilians threatened. Repeat, civilians threatened. I make an LZ, twenty-three hundred block of Virginia Avenue. Rendezvous, two minutes." she said quickly into her phone before pressing a button. Before Q could ask what she was doing, Natasha gripped her hand tightly and pulled her closer.

"Whoever the fuck that guy is, he's after us. I'll distract him, you stay low and behind the cars, okay? When you can, run. Don't worry about me." she said in the same quick, breathless tone she had used on her phone, "Q, do you understand?"

"Yeah, yeah I got it." she bobbed her head in a nod, sensing the theme of the afternoon. She just had to run, always - God, she hated running.

Natasha didn't say anything else before disappearing around the front of the tan car, leaving Q on her own. Even though she just admitted that she didn't trust the woman, she was still scared of her which meant she did as Nat told her to. And she was grateful that Nat was still trying to protect her. So she crouched down low, trying to see what was going on by peering through the bottom of the windows.

A loud explosion made her flinch and she looked off to the side to see what it was - only seeing a large fireball moving up to the sky along with smoke rolling off the edges. Whatever had blown up was small enough to be contained to that area. She was so focused on the explosion, she didn't even notice that Nat had come back.

The sound of gunfire was replaced by people screaming, cars honking and feet pounding the pavement as people ran - trying to get to safety from whatever threat was causing such chaos. But for some reason, it all sounded muted, like she was underwater. Her heart was pounding, filling her ears as she tried to ready herself for whatever was coming next. Whatever was coming for them. Cause whatever he was, he was no longer a ghost story to her, but he certainly wasn't human either - he was a machine.

Another loud explosion that happened right across from the car she was hiding behind, got her attention. It was clearly Nat's cue cause she went leaping over the car and Q perked up high enough to see her wrap her legs around the man with the metal arm's neck - then for added measure used a garrotte to try and get the job done.

But the man with the metal arm was faster, slipping his flesh hand up in between the space and keeping the garrotte away from his neck. The two struggled for a bit, grunting and trying to get the upper hand. They were practically an even match, which made Q wonder if he was a super soldier as well. God there was starting to become too many of them.

He stumbled back and slammed up against the car, startling Q in the process - who couldn't help the small noise of fear she let out. She clapped her hand over her mouth, hoping the attacker wouldn't be distracted by her noise and turn his attention to her.

Luckily, he was too focused on the assassin who was wrapping her legs around his neck. He managed to throw Nat off of him and she slammed against the car across the street before slumping to the ground with a grunt. Q moved out of her crouch ever so slowly as she waited for an opportunity to run while keeping an eye on what was happening in the street. His attention was completely on Nat so she chose that moment to run.

Moving out from behind the car and crossing the street a few feet from where the two where sparring, she only heard the sound of a gun being fired from behind her. Her stomach dropped at the sound, assuming that it was Nat who had been the victim of the bullet. But instead of turning back to check, she heard Nat's voice in her head reminding her to run and not worry about her. She swallowed back the guilt that was already forming and did as the voice in her head said.

Rounding the corner, she slowed down a bit, feeling something wet against the back side of her thigh. She moved her hand down to the spot, thinking that she had peed herself from all the chaos she had been involved in. Honestly? It wouldn't have surprised her. But instead, when she moved her fingers back up to look, she saw that they were stained red - holy shit was that blood? She started hyperventilating, looking down at where there was a clear rip in her jeans from where...when the gun fired, the bullet must've nicked her.

"When I tell you to run! You run!" Nat's breathless, screaming voice startled her, but before she could say anything back, Natasha had pushed her forward - making it very clear that she was to run. She stumbled before picking up her pace and running down the street in front of Nat.

From behind her, she could hear Nat's raw voice, yelling at people to get out of the way in an attempt to protect them from the man with the metal arm and his massive semi-automatic rifle. People were running all around them, trying to get to safety just as they were. She got separated from Nat, going one way around a car while she went the other.

A shot rang out and she immediately stopped in her tracks and whirled around to see where it came from or who it hit. There was no sign of Nat, but she could see the man with the metal arm stalking toward her.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." she muttered out, over and over as she tried to find some place to hide. She dove down behind a red car, praying he didn't see her.

Thankfully, he moved around the other side of the red car, running to jump up on top of the tan car that was in the middle of the street. Then, before she could even let out a breath of relief, Steve came out of nowhere - sprinting down the sidewalk and heading straight for the man with the metal arm.

At the last second, he noticed Steve and quickly went to punch him with the metal arm - only Steve stopped it with his shield. The echo reverberated around them, making a tense moment even tenser. Without another pause, the man pushed Steve's shield to the side, which opened up his chest so he could kick Steve back. He put enough power behind the kick to send Steve falling off the car as he fell back against the roof of the car.

Turtling behind his shield, Steve took the immediate gunfire from the other man before somersaulting forward as the other rolled off the car and to his feet. While the man grabbed the extra gun strapped to his back, Steve moved around the opposite side of the car, keeping low so not to be hit by a bullet.

Then, seeing an opportunity to strike while he was reloading, Steve launched himself over the car and roundhouse kicked the gun out of his flesh hand. But he quickly pulled a handgun from his thigh holster and immediately started shooting. It was like no matter how fast Steve disarmed him, he had another weapon almost immediately. Like his entire being was just chock full of different ways to take him down. Guns, knives, grenades...and muscles included.

Steve managed to punch him in the face, knocking the handgun out of his hand and resulting in starting a hand to hand combat. He tried to strike him with the shield, but the metal arm caught it and Steve was too slow to block the fist to his gut and then again when the other man's fist slammed into his face. His metal hand still had a tight grip on the shield - he figured the arm must've been made out of the same material as the shield, and he used it to flip both the shield and Steve over - effectively pulling the shield off of Steve's arm.

Going to punch him, it was quickly blocked by his shield. He didn't like how his shield was being used against him so his only goal right then was to get his shield back. But the other man had other plans. He slammed his metal fist into Steve's chest, sending him flying through the air. He tried to catch himself, doing a backwards somersault to lessen the impact of the blow and get him back on his feet quicker. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Q crouching behind the red car that he was next to. Her eyes were trained on him, wide and fearful, but also...almost worried? All he knew was that he had to make sure the fight was moved away from the red car - away from her.

The man with the metal arm stood a few feet in front of him, holding his shield up in a similar fashion to how he usually did. Steve charged at him, but instead of using the shield as a defense, he used it as an offense. He flung it toward him, Steve barely having time to dodge it as it buried itself in the gray van that was behind him.

Q's surprised yelp echoed around him, but didn't slow him down, Steve prepared himself for a fight as the man pulled out a knife from his thigh sheath, expertly twirling it between his fingers. The two went hand to knife: Steve trying to avoid being stabbed while the other man was doing everything he desperately could to stab him. Ever since the serum, Steve had fought a lot of fights, going up against some pretty bad people, but never was he this evenly matched. In fact, for a split second, Steve believed that this man was actually better than him; he was faster, stronger, less emotional about everything going on - Steve knew that much from looking into his eyes and seeing how dead they were. He had a mission. And he wasn't going to stop until it was completed.

Flipping the knife in the air, the man caught it after swinging to punch Steve and then bringing it back down to stab him. Steve managed to block the stab and then land a punch him in the lower abdomen. The man didn't even flinch. Nothing phased him. He just continued to try and hit or stab him in any place he could. Clearly, he was willing to sacrifice his body and push through considerable pain. Steve retaliated by grabbing the wrist of the hand with the knife in it, only to have the man use his metal arm to shove him back, making him let go and then immediately slicing at Steve - who barely had time to duck.

Finally, Steve was able to land a solid hook against his face, making his head snap to the side. He didn't hesitate to roundhouse kick him in the gut, sending him flying back against another car. Taking off into a sprint, Steve jumped into the air and went to kick him in the face, only for his foot to go through the window when he dodged it.

The two continued to spar for another moment, Steve losing the small upper hand he had when the other man wrapped his metal hand around his neck. The hand began to crush his windpipe and Steve tried to no avail to break the fingers apart in an effort to loosen the grip. He was yanked closer to the other man, the hand squeezing even tighter before he was thrown backward, going tumbling over the hood of the car he had smashed the window of.

Suddenly, the metal fist came smashing down from above - Steve barely had time to roll to the side to avoid having it connect with his face. He got to his feet and spun around, not even able to take a breath as the man came at him again at full speed. Whoever he was, he was beginning to gain the upper hand. Steve couldn't let that happen.

Another knife appeared after Steve had been kicked against the gray van. He managed to throw his hands up to stop it from stabbing him, forcing the hand to the side and instead having it slice into the gray van as the other man pushed them over to the back. At the very last second, Steve ducked down, making the man lose his balance momentarily at the lack of van and letting him grab him around the waist to pick him up.

Throwing himself back to the ground, Steve was able to flip the man over him and give him a second to grab his shield from where it was buried into the back door. He glanced behind the red car to see that Q was no longer there, but a quick shift of his eyes let him spot her a few more cars down. Smart girl.

While he was able to block more efficiently, it didn't stop the man from getting at least one punch in. Steve maneuvered them so he could shoved the shield into the plating of the metal arm, trying to short circuit it or slice through it or really anything at this point. Then he quickly moved the shield under the metal arm and slammed it up so it hit the man in the face.

Using his distraction to his advantage, Steve spun around and reached behind him. He grabbed the face mask of the man and used it as a lever in an effort to flip the man over his shoulder. The man somersaulted forward, rolling over once before getting back to his feet.

From the force and the movement of the action, the mask fell off of his face, laying in between the two super soldiers. Expecting for the man to quickly spin around and attack again, Steve prepared himself for whatever weapon or action the man might take. But instead, the man simply looked over his shoulder. And Steve's heart dropped to his stomach.

Standing up straight, his jaw fell open slightly in shock. His chest quickly rose and fell, a side effect from both the fight he was just in and as a reaction to the man standing in front of him.

The man, who had just done everything in his power to try and kill him.

The man, who had a metal arm and a plethora of weapons just on his person.

The man, who looked dead inside and maybe because, well, he had died.

Over seventy years ago.

"Bucky?" Steve uttered, breathless with his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. It came out as a question; there was no way this man was the same man who Steve knew. Their faces were the same, but at the same time, they weren't. The Bucky he knew was never seen without a smirk or smile on his face. His eyes bright and full of life. The man standing in front of him was stone faced, his lips set in a grim line. His eyes were dark and dead.

Still, he waited for an answer. A confirmation that they were the same. That somehow his best friend, who he watched die over seventy years ago, was now standing in front of him.

"Who the hell is Bucky?" the man asked, features unchanging as he immediately pulled his last resort gun from somewhere on his person and aimed it at Steve. But before he could pull the trigger, Sam came flying out of the sky and kicked Bucky down to the ground.

Steve could only watch in a stunned silence as Bucky got to his feet. He knew he should do something, take him down. He caused so much pain and destruction, but Steve was frozen in place. Even when Bucky pulled his gun out again and pointed it at him...again.

But what did get him to react was when he heard the firing of something. He ducked down as whatever was fired soared over his head, then exploded against the car a few feet away where Bucky had just been standing. Steve looked over his shoulder to see Natasha leaning against a truck, holding a machine gun that had been fitted with some sort of grenade launcher. Q was peering out from around her shoulder, still looking a bit fearful, but also a little curious.

Making eye contact with her, her face contorted into something sympathetic; a small smile appearing on her lips and her eyes were tinged with sadness. He wondered if she recognized the man without his mask from the stories he had told her. Or maybe she had just heard him voice his confusion about the face he hadn't seen in over seventy years and then she just put two and two together. No matter which one was true, there was already an intense need growing stronger and stronger in the pit of his stomach to talk to her about it. About all of it.

When Steve looked back to where Bucky was, there was nothing but smoke and fire. He was gone. Disappeared into thin air. For some reason, he was disappointed about his disappearance; it made him feel like it was some sort of fever dream or that he was imagining that whoever had attacked them wasn't Bucky at all. But deep down he knew that it was. Somehow it was.

Sirens cut through the air, jolting him out of his stupor. He looked around to see an army of black SUVs with red and blue lights speeding down the street toward them. They wove around the deserted cars and avoided whatever debris was around. They came in from all around - front, back, side to side and as soon as the cars stopped men in tactical gear got out and swarmed toward them. Very quickly, it became apparent that these men weren't DC Metro cops, but the STRIKE team - with Rumlow at the lead.

"Get on your knees! Get on your knees!" he shouted out, ordering all of them. He shoved past Steve, his gun trained on Q.

No matter how many times it happened, she would never get used to a gun being pointed at her, and frankly, she never wanted to be. A part of her was afraid he might actually shoot her right then and there, but still she limped out from where she was hiding behind the truck, hands going up in the air as she slowly lowered herself to the ground. She knew the drill and knew that it was easier to just go along with whatever they wanted rather than try and fight it - not that she was even in such a position to in the first place.

Wincing as her wound stretched the wrong way, she glanced over to where Steve was being forced to the ground. Sam was being herded to the center of the street and one of the other STRIKE team members grabbed Natasha. Rumlow went around her and holstered his gun before abruptly grabbing her wrists. He yanked them down and behind her, making her yell out in pain. A flash of pain shot across her wrist at the action; at some point during the chaos, she had hurt her wrist in a serious way, but Rumlow didn't care.

"The last time you handcuffed me, I was naked in a bed." she couldn't help but remind him sassily, a bit breathless from the stab of pain that went up her arm. He roughly pushed her head forward with his hand.

"Shut up." he seethed out, clearly not amused. The handcuffs were tight around her wrists, making her unknown injury hurt more, and he violently pulled her to her feet before passing her off to another STRIKE team member.

As she was pushed toward a waiting van, she looked over her shoulder to see one of the men with a gun pointed to the back of Steve's head. He could easily get out of the situation, get them all out of the situation, but he let them handcuff him and drag him to his feet - mind a thousand miles away.

Or rather, over seventy years away.


	44. reunions

Q decided whoever was driving the van was deliberately hitting every pothole. She was jostled against Steve's shoulder each time, wincing in pain. With the adrenaline wearing off from what happened on the causeway, a steady throbbing sensation was beginning to take over. She was acutely aware of her wrist injury, other minor injuries from the car crash and the way her thigh was pulsing from the bullet wound.

Everyone in the van was silent, obviously all processing what just happened. They were handcuffed: Steve had been locked into some sort of bigger, sturdier metal cylinders in an effort to have him be more secure, but she assumed that he could easily break out of them if necessary. Natasha looked like a ghost and was very well on the verge of passing out from the amount of blood streaming from her shoulder wound. Sam was glancing at the two STRIKE team guards who had been assigned to watch over them and their gear. She could tell that he was figuring out the best possible way to take them out. But he wouldn't do anything - not with Steve staring blankly at the floor of the van.

No one could've known who the man with the metal arm actually was, least of all Steve. But she did know that he was already blaming himself for not figuring it out sooner. It was written all over his face. She hadn't seen that guilty look in a while. It was different than the others, like it was specifically for Bucky: guilt mixed with longing.

"It was him." he finally spoke, eyes unblinking as he stared at the floor of the van, "He looked right at me like he didn't even know me." his voice was heavy, laden with the guilt that he had been bearing for over seventy years.

"How is that even possible?" Sam spoke up, speaking for everyone and asking the question that was on everyone's mind, "It was, like, seventy years ago." With everything that Steve had told her about Bucky - about what happened to Bucky, she couldn't even begin to come up with an answer. Or maybe she could if her brain wasn't muddled with pain.

"Zola." Steve picked his head up, thankfully coming up with the answer, "Bucky's whole unit was captured in forty-three. Zola experimented on him. Whatever he did helped Bucky survive the fall. They must have found him and…" he trailed off, looking over at Q, who was barely able to keep her eyes open. She didn't have the words to fill in the blank - they weren't coming to her.

"None of that's your fault, Steve." Natasha pointed out, voice monotone and filling in for what Q was supposed to say. But even with her vision blurring, she could see that he didn't believe her.

"Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky." he admitted, attention returning back to the spot in the ground. There was a new brick of guilt settling on his shoulders, as if he didn't already carry enough guilt from not saving Bucky. Now, he had to deal with the fact that if he had saved Bucky, he never would've become the person - the assassin he was today.

"We need to get a doctor here." Sam suddenly snapped out, glaring at the two guards that were assigned to their vehicle, "If we don't put pressure on that wound, she's gonna bleed out here in the truck." he pointed out, almost aggressively. She wasn't sure if he was talking about Nat or her, but either way the aggressive tone he used was as if he thought his tone would be enough to make them listen. Instead, all it accomplished was making one pull out their cattle prod and pointing it at him.

After a tense moment of electricity crackling, the guard quickly turned and shoved the cattle prod into the other guard sitting next to them. She, and the rest of them, jumped in surprise. The electrocuted guard slumped over, unconscious, while the other pulled off the helmet.

"God, that thing was squeezing my brain." Maria Hill's voice got her attention. She squinted, as if that would help her see more clearly. Why was Maria sitting in the van with them? Was she dreaming? She glanced across the van, seeing that her fellow rogue agents were just as surprised as she was.

"Who's this guy?" Maria glanced to Sam, but directed her question to Steve and Q. All she could manage was a small laugh in response.

The next few minutes were a blur. She chalked it up to blood loss and her body finally beginning to shut down from the immense amount of pain she was in. Things seemed to be both louder and softer at the same time. Voices mixed together, she couldn't tell who was speaking to who. She heard her name every so often but she wasn't sure if it was right then or if it was minutes ago and her brain was just catching up. Half her body was cold, half was sweating. Every time she turned her head, it took a second for her vision to catch up with her, causing some sort of swirl effect she only ever saw in movies.

She was aware of hands on her, fiddling with the handcuffs around her wrists until they came loose. But all she could focus on was the flashes of pain that shot up her arm each time their fingers came in contact with her skin. She wasn't sure if she made any noises though; it was like her mouth was full of cotton.

The sound of heat cutting through metal caught her attention and she looked down to see that there was a hole in the middle of the van. The street flew by underneath the van, making her stomach roll. She had to look away, focus on something else, someone else: Steve. He wasn't looking at her, eyes on someone else as they talked through some sort of plan she wasn't paying attention to. Still, she stared at his profile, the nausea subsiding almost immediately and a calmness over taking her. As long as she had him by her side, she wouldn't have to worry about anything. She would be safe.

His head turned, eyes meeting hers. Oh, they were so blue. His lips were moving, but she wasn't listening - not like she could hear him anyway; it was like she was underwater. So instead she looked for that tiny speck of green she had seen in Brooklyn. The feeling of his hand on her arm made her look away and down. Then, almost like someone had turned up the volume on a television, his voice met her ears.

"Q? Do you understand? You're gonna have to slide out after Nat." she blinked, gaze shifting to meet his eyes.

"Slide out?" she hadn't heard any of the beginning the plan. Looking from Steve to the others, she noticed all of their serious looks. "Like out of the van?" she managed out, getting jostled as the van hit another bump. He nodded and she shook her head, "No, no, I can't - I…" she took in a deep breath, not even being able to get a simple excuse out. His brow furrowed and a he shot a worried look up over her head to someone behind her.

"You can do it, suit." Natasha chimed in, sounding miserable, but it didn't stop her from trying to give her some semblance of encouragement. "I know you're in a lot of pain, but you're gonna have to." her head lolled to the side, hiding her pain a lot better than Q was. She sent a panicked look to Steve, but he wasn't any help.

"Alright, let's go guys." Maria instructed as the van slowed to a stop, "We've got two minutes, tops."

As if on cue, the others sprung into action. Slowly, but they sprung. The gear was dropped out first: Steve's shield, Sam's pack that contained his wings. Then Maria slid out of the hole, rolling to the side and disappearing from view. Sam was next, then Natasha, then it was Q's turn. Steve's hand was on her arm, steadying her as she swayed even though the van was still. He squeezed her lame excuse for a bicep and she looked back at him, the world catching up a moment later. It took another moment for his face to come into focus. When it did, she saw that he was giving her a small smile, trying to be encouraging like the others had, but still dealing with the fact that Bucky was alive. That was weighing down on him more than anything, coming through even his feeble attempt at motivation.

He didn't say anything, or maybe he did and she just couldn't hear him, but she nodded anyhow. Nat was right: she had to do this. It was the only way they would escape the STRIKE team's hold. It was either slide through the hole or going wherever STRIKE was planning on taking them - probably into the ground.

With her body screaming at her every which way till Sunday, she lowered herself to the ground. Steve kept a firm hold on her hand - luckily not the one that was injured, making sure that she was stabilized. She slipped through the hole and landed on the ground before flattening herself onto her stomach and rolling the same way the others had. Sam was there to help her to her feet and she found herself putting all of her weight onto him. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Steve getting to his feet and brushing himself off. They had all made it. She could relax now.

Her head went to rest on Sam's shoulder and he pretty much dragged her over to another waiting van by the side of the road. She registered the sound of the door being opened and could fuzzily see the figures in front of her climbing inside.

"Well, you all look like shit." she heard Dawson's voice say matter of factly. And right then and there, the pain took over her consciousness and she fainted in Sam's arms.

Since the moment she fainted, Steve's eyes hadn't left her. The others were making quiet conversation as Dawson drove them to some sort of secure location, but Steve was solely focused on Q. She was laid out on the far bench of the van, the others in various seats around her and he was right across from her - giving him the perfect spot to keep an eye on her. He hadn't done so before which caused her to get seriously injured.

And the worst part was that he hadn't even noticed until Maria started to lightly patch her up as much as she could in the van. He had been so caught up in the Bucky revelation that he hadn't even noticed that she had been hurt - shot even. He could see where the bullet nicked her outer thigh. It had sliced right through her tattoo and he knew it would scar, leaving both of them with a permanent reminder that he hadn't saved her.

Besides the bullet wound, the rest of her body was scattered with minor cuts and bruises. A blossoming black eye, a few scratches across her face from the airbag, and the rest of her face was pale, paler than he had ever seen it from loss of blood. Her clothes were slightly ripped and dirty, her knees all scratched up from escaping the STRIKE van. When he had broken her out of her handcuffs, she let out a high pitched noise of pain, causing him to believe that her wrist had been injured in the accident as well.

Another brick of guilt settled on his shoulders, adding to the growing wall he was building. He had failed so many times throughout the day and the reminders just kept coming. Bucky had tried to kill him, Q had been seriously hurt and he had pushed her way past her limit in an effort to save everyone again, and now Hydra was about to launch helicarriers that would wipe out tens of thousands of innocent people at once.

The van pulled off the main road and started down a dirt path. It jostled them all slightly and he quickly moved across the van to make sure Q didn't go rolling off the bench. As the van settled out, he maneuvered himself so her head was resting on his lap and he took her uninjured hand in his, thumb skating over her wrist before searching for a pulse. It was faint, but there - that's all that mattered.

While he wasn't quite certain where the van was taking them, Maria had made it clear that it was some sort of safe-house. He had been surprised to see her - though surprise seemed to be the general theme of the day. What with all the revelations, exposed secrets and people cropping up from both his past and present. He could only guess what was coming next and even then, he knew he would probably be wrong.

Once the van stopped, he gently picked her up in his arms and carried her out of the van, making sure her head was supported. Natasha was leaning on Dawson, who had his arm wrapped around her waist to support her. Steve couldn't believe she was still standing - though he had always wondered if she was some sort of super soldier was well. He had been surprised to see Dawson in the driver's seat of the van that Maria had led them to. There hadn't been much an explanation behind it, but it was clear they were on the same side.

He followed the rest of the group into what seemed to be some sort of underground tunnel system. His confusion grew, matching pace with his worry for Q. The tunnels were lit up by a long line of heavy duty lights that reminded him of the bunker back at the camp. The only two who looked comfortable in the place were Dawson and Maria. He briefly wondered if this was the place Q was supposed to take him to when she picked them up at the camp.

At their entrance, someone in a suit came running up to them as Maria shouted. He was the same man who had operated on Fury before he died. Steve's confusion grew.

"Two GSWs! One shoulder and one thigh! Both lost at least a pint! Maybe two!" she summarized. He gestured to Natasha.

"Let me take her." he offered, getting closer to them before they met in the middle. Maria refused, keeping a steadying hand on Natasha even though Dawson was supporting most of her weight.

"She'll want to see him first." she pointed out. The man nodded, then turned, leading all of them down the hall.

They walked through a curtain of vertical leather blinds to come into what was some sort of hospital-slash-recovery room set-up. With Nick Fury in the bed that was in the middle of the room. Alive. Steve was so shocked, he almost dropped Q on the ground. But he kept his grip on her as Nick's head turned to so he could see them.

"About damn time." he said, tone almost exasperated by how long it had taken them to get to the safehouse.

"Here, I got her." Dawson pulled his attention away from Fury. He was gesturing to Q, which made Steve tighten up a bit. He didn't want to pass her off to him, not wanting her out of his sight. "Man, come on," he sighed, sensing Steve's apprehension, "She's gonna bleed out in your arms." he pointed out, still gesturing to him, "And you're gonna wanna hear this." he glanced over to where Fury was. Steve followed his line of vision before looking back at Dawson.

"You sure?" he asked cautiously.

"Yes, God, she weighs like ninety pounds." he rolled his eyes, thinking that his question was more about being able to carry Q rather than if he could trust him. He wanted to; he had gotten them all out of the STRIKE transport unit, but still.

Letting another moment of hesitation go by, Steve finally transferred her over to Dawson, who cradled her in his arms with the same amount of reverence he had. He realized that Dawson cared just as much for Q as he did, which made him feel a bit better about passing her off to him. Still, he followed him with his eyes, watching as he turned and crossed the room, ducking behind an area that had been sectioned off with a room divider for privacy. Then, he turned his attention back to Fury, curious to learn how the man he watched die in his apartment somehow survived.

The doctor cleaned and stitched up Q's bullet wound, then patched it nice and pretty to stop any excess bleeding that could happen. Her wrist was reset and put in a bandage and sling until they could get her to an actual hospital to get her in a cast. Dawson watched the doctor finish up with his arms crossed over his chest, glancing around the room divider every so often. Fury was recounting the story of how he had survived to Natasha and Steve. If he hadn't been in on it since the beginning, he would've been just as shocked as they were. Hell, he wished Q was conscious so that he could at least see the priceless look on her face when she realized Fury was alive. He had wanted to tell her ever since the beginning, but he was under strict orders not to; at the time, Fury wasn't sure who he could trust. Which she would no doubt take personally when she found out. But Dawson always trusted her, even in times she didn't trust him.

The sound of something falling got his attention. Looking away from the reunion, he saw that Q was on the ground, a few feet away from the bed. She was wrapped up in the sheet, covering the lower half of her body. As he made his way over to her, he tried to figure out what she was trying to do before her injured leg gave out from under her.

"Hey, hey, hey," he crouched down next to her, reaching out to stop her, "What are you doing, crazy?" she lamely tried to push him off of her, but it felt like a leaf hitting him in the shoulder.

"I'm trying to...I wanna help." she tried to explain, eyes barely open. "I can...email Sharon...tell her about the helicarriers…" she trailed off. He hooked one arm under hers and then wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling her up to her feet. She tried to fight him off, but wow, she was so weak.

"No, you need to get your ass back in bed." he said matter of factly, quickly tiring of her pain brain. She made a noise of disagreement, but couldn't form actual words to argue back.

As he tried to help her up and get her back to the cot, Rogers suddenly appeared out of nowhere. God, it was like the dude had some sort of Q-in-danger radar. He went around the other side to support her and she leaned into him more, letting out a low contented hum. Dawson let him take most of the weight and then stepped back as Rogers helped her into the cot. When she realized where she was going, she tried to fight back, but it didn't even phase him.

"No, Steve, Steven, I want to help. Let me help take down Hydra." she whined, wrapping her hand around the material of his jacket and pulling on it.

"You've helped enough, Q. You did great." he lied to her as Dawson stepped back, arms crossing over his chest. He watched as Rogers maneuvered her back to the cot, sitting her down on the edge and ignoring her feeble attempts to get out of his not so tight grip on her. Trying to help, Dawson reached over to grab one of the syringes that held a painkiller and handed it to him. He gave him a grateful smile before pushing it into Q's arm.

"Ow!" she cried out dramatically before pouting at him. He gave her a sympathetic smile, rubbing his thumb gently over the spot where he pushed the needle in.

"Sorry, just something to help with the pain." he explained as he slowly lowered her down onto the pillow on the cot, "Get some rest, Queenie." his voice was soft and tender - Dawson had never heard him talk like that to anyone before. And he certainly never heard him call Q Queenie before.

Ducking his head down a bit to hide his amused smile, he kept his arms crossed over his chest as Rogers continued to make sure Q was comfortable. Her eyes fluttered shut and he moved to drape a blanket over her, looking at her as if she were the most fragile thing on Earth, but also the most precious.

After he was certain that Q was comfortably asleep, he moved back, but kept his eyes on her for a moment longer. Then he turned to start cleaning up the syringe he had used on her. He met Dawson's eyes and gave him a small, relieved smile - trying to pass it off as being grateful for his help. Dawson stepped up next to him, arms still crossed as he looked at his profile.

"Everyone can see it you know." he pointed out what he thought was the obvious. Rogers didn't react at all, eyes on the task he was completing.

"See what?" he asked back lightly. Dawson wanted to laugh; this was ridiculous. Both of them knew what he was talking about. Even though he had been driving the van, Dawson glanced back a couple times and saw how tenderly Rogers was taking care of her. The man was head over heels for Q, despite her terrible choices in pantsuits. And he could guess that Q felt the same way for Rogers - using practically a whole day to find him and make sure he was okay.

"Everybody but you, apparently." he sighed, shifting his weight a bit as he looked past Steve.

"I'm just helping her out, Dawson." he argued with a glance over to him. He was so desperately trying to keep his cover.

"Mm-hmm." he didn't push any further, but made Rogers aware that he didn't quite believe what he was saying. He sighed before looking over at Dawson, gesturing to him a bit,

"You know, maybe you should cut back on those - those Red Cows." he deflected and redirected, turning the focus back on Dawson. He didn't have to be as good as reading people as Q was to know that that was a common move made when trying not to admit to something that was so clearly going on. Dawson smirked at him before reaching out and clapping his shoulder.

"Red Bulls." he corrected him then walked past him, knowing he would keep an eye on Q for the rest of the evening - and he wanted to check in on Nat.

After Dawson ducked back around the room divider, Steve let out a relieved sigh. He managed to keep the secret of him and Q for another few hours at least. Though it was clear that Dawson was catching on fast. He wondered who else was; he had said everyone. But that wasn't his biggest concern at the moment. His gaze shifted back to where Q was sleeping, looking a little better than she had in the van.

The color had returned to her face. The soft breaths she took were steady. Her cuts and scrapes were stitched or bandage. He couldn't see from the sheet covering her lower half, but based on the way she had been acting before he gave her the sedative he was sure that her bullet wound had been taken care of. The immediate worry was alleviated; she was okay.

A small weight had been lifted from his shoulders, but it didn't make much of a difference considering what they were dealing with. He sat down on the edge of her cot, rubbing his hands together as he did so. She still had no idea what was going on and honestly, neither did he.

From what he could gather from Fury, the attack had been real. The only reason he had survived was because of something called a Deep Shadow protocol. Maria had made sure that the surgeon had dosed him with Tetrodotoxin B. Apparently, it slowed the pulse to one beat a minute. It made it seem like he had died on the table, when really, he was just unconscious.

The only people who knew about the protocol were Maria and Dawson. An odd pairing, he had thought, but those were the people Fury trusted completely. He knew Q wouldn't take that kindly when she found out - just as Natasha had, even if she didn't show it.

Before he learned more about why they were in the tunnels and how much he knew about Project Insight, he heard Q and Dawson arguing about something or other. He left the conversation to make sure she was okay. She might not be one of the biggest concerns, but she certainly was one of his most important ones. He wanted to take care of her, keep an eye on her, make sure she didn't do anything stupid and then fill her in when she was woke up again.

Glancing to make sure she was still peacefully sleeping, he moved off the cot to glance around the room divider. Everyone had various injuries that were finally being taken care of. Fury was being tended to by Maria, Dawson was off behind another divider, checking in on Natasha and Sam was getting his minor cuts cleaned up. There was a lull, making it easier for him to focus completely on Q.

On the side table, there was a small pile of folded up clothes. He grabbed them, seeing it to be a flannel and a pair of black sweatpants. Figuring they were supposed to be for Q, he moved back to the cot and went about changing her into the clean clothes. He was careful, especially when it came to unhooking her sling and not moving her bandaged wrist in a way that would cause her pain. Before he put the sweatpants on, he put a fresh bandage on her bullet wound, wanting it to be as clean as possible. He had lost many a men to infection before and he wasn't about to risk losing her - even if medicine had greatly improved since.

Keeping his touch soft and slow, he took his time putting her sweatpants on, then buttoning up the flannel. It was the most intimate thing he had done with her, even after what they had done together. And while he was re-hooking her arm in the sling, she began to stir. She groaned a little and he immediately paused in his motions, thinking he was hurting her.

"Where's people?" Q's slurred voice asked out as she rolled her head to the side. He watched her blink awake and then start to struggle to sit up. Clicking the sling back together, he moved back so he could put his hands out to try and stop her from falling forward.

"They're all okay." he assured her, "They had some injuries that needed to be taken care of though, but they're all okay." he gave her a slight smile.

"That's very serious." her face scrunched up and she pushed out her lower lip into a pout, "Very serious." she repeated herself in a lower voice. He laughed a little and her face relaxed into a bright smile, "I made you laugh. You laughed." she giggled, reaching out to press her hand against his cheek, "You should laugh more." she suggested, the bright smile still on her face.

"What the hell did Dawson have me give you?" he murmured to himself, trying to see the syringe label. There was a possibility he went a bit overboard with the sedative. She kept rubbing his cheek with her thumb, eyes scanning his face before she let out a sigh,

"You're always so serious. You need to lighten. Up." she punctuated the last two words with light taps on his cheek. He smiled at her, ducking his head down a bit as if to hide it. The way she was acting reminded him of how she was after a few drinks, but just a bit more loopy.

"I like this cot." she moved on before he could say anything, hand fall from his face to slide over the top of the cot, "Like a cloud - no!" she gasped, looking at him with a wide smile, "Like cot-ton candy!" she laughed at her own joke, leaning backwards as she did. He quickly reached out to catch her and make sure she didn't fall backwards off the bed. She let out a surprised yelp before dissolving into giggles again, falling forward into his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist. A small sigh escaped as she buried her face into his shirt.

"Thank you for saving me." she mumbled before picking her head up to look at him, "You're awesome." she grinned at him and he let out a small chuckle.

"Thank you." he glanced down and slowly pushed her arms off of him - not wanting anyone to see what was going on behind the divider. Not like anything was going on, but it would be awkward if anyone would come around the corner.

"I'm cereal." she mumbled, blinking slowly, "You've been through so much, lost so many people…" her hand went up again to rub at his cheek, he tried to give her a small smile, but he knew it was more sad than anything else, "But despite all that, you've kept your heart." she kept eye contact with him, "You've kept your heart and you've always done the right thing, even if it's not what people want you to do." she gave him a half smile, "There's no one else like you, Steve Rogers." she whispered, leaning closer to him. "Rogers." she repeated before grinning, "Roger, Rogers." she giggled. He grinned back at her before gently moving her so she could lay back down.

"I think you should get some rest, Queenie." he suggested. She bit her lip and tried not to smile as he pulled the blanket up her body.

"I like that you call me Queenie." she snuggled down a bit under the blanket, moving her hands over the top so that she could reach for his hand, "I like you." she shifted against the pillow, eyes already fluttering shut.

"I like you too." he responded quietly, only knowing she heard him by the way her mouth quirked up.

The next time Q woke up, her head felt heavy. Like she had one too many drinks and was now stuck with a terrible hangover. The world was still a little blurry but cleared up after a few blinks. She could deal with hangover symptoms; it was much better than dealing with how she felt in the van.

As she woke up a bit more, she started to remember the process of events: the van, Maria...though there was a gap in her memory where she assumed she passed out from the pain...but the next thing she remembered was waking up to Steve taking care of her. Her heart fluttered a bit at the memory; he was okay and he had been right by her side to make sure she was too.

Wherever she ended up was a bit cold, but nothing she couldn't handle all things considering. It was lit up pretty nicely and looked like some sort of warehouse. Letting her chin drop to her chest, she caught sight of someone sitting on the foot of the cot. Steve. She let out a small noise as she pushed herself into a sitting position, realizing it was a lot harder than she originally thought. The noise caught his attention and he immediately moved down the bed to make sure she was okay.

"Hey, good morning." he greeted her. Her brows furrowed as she glanced around the area they were in. How did he know it was morning? There were no windows around in the...no, it wasn't a warehouse...it was a tunnel system? Were they in an underground tunnel system?

"Hi," she cleared her throat. While one hand went to rest on her knee, he reached with the other for a glass of water that she waved off. She wasn't that desperate. But she did wonder how long he had been waiting there for her to wake up. Long enough for the afternoon to turn into night and then into morning again. Did he sleep? She hoped he did.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, voice soft as if not to startle her. She gave him a smile and scooted forward to be closer to him.

"Better. A big fan of those pain meds you gave me." she laughed, stretching a bit. A blush spread across his cheeks when he realized she remembered their conversation the day before. He had wondered if she would remember what she said to him, apparently she did.

"Sorry, I think I was only supposed to give you half the dosage." he apologized, "Don't worry, I didn't, uh, take anything to heart." her brow furrowed as she laughed a bit. That wasn't really the reaction he was expecting; he said that so that she wouldn't think anything she had said was her fault. She reached out to take his hand again.

"Don't be weird about it." she sounded almost like she was teasing him. He laughed a little, ducking his head down to hide his ever growing blush, "You know how hard it can be for me and… feelings, but I wanted to tell you those things." she explained and he glanced up through his lashes at her, "I wanted you to hear them because sometimes, you give me this look." she paused and his eyes flicked up to meet hers. The look on his face melted into one that made her feel like she was the only person in the world, "Like that." she pointed out, giving him a soft smile, "And it makes me want to admit all the things you make me feel. So don't apologize for shooting me up with painkillers." she laughed a little, "It actually helped me in more ways than one." she finished softly. She looked down at their fingers, intertwining them together as she took in a deep breath and let the moment linger before moving on, "So, are you gonna tell me why we're in an underground tunnel system?" Steve let out a slight laugh before looking down at his feet.

"I don't think that's my place..." he said solemnly then looked back over to her, "But I didn't want to leave before you woke up."

"Leave? Where are you going?" she asked, her brow furrowing at the sudden change in the air. Everything had become more serious. She shifted in the bed, trying to get closer as if that would help her understand what he was saying.

"We have to get ready to take down the helicarriers," he started to explain, reminding her of the bigger issue at hand. Reminding her that there were three helicarriers ready to take down tens of thousands of people at once. Hydra was still at large. She was hoping they would get a chance to talk about everything - not only what was said while she was high, but about what would happen after everything was over. It seemed like that would have to wait.

"Yeah, no I understand." she nodded after he finished explaining how him, Sam, Natasha and Maria were going to break into the Smithsonian to get his uniform so he could be protected when they went to take down the helicarriers. She gave him a tight, but hopefully warm smile, "We'll talk when you get back." his brow furrowed at her comment.

"You wanted to talk?" he asked and she opened her mouth a bit, his response throwing her off.

"Well, I mean, yeah, I thought...you wanted to talk about...well, you know, everything." she took her hand away from his to wave it in the air, hoping she was vague enough. While she wanted to talk about them, she knew there was a lot of other things they needed to talk about. He raised his eyebrows and nodded, letting out a breath as he agreed with her.

"Yeah, no, I definitely do." he sighed out. She was right; he did want to talk about everything - from what happened on the causeway to his feelings about her and everything in between. There just wasn't enough time.

"Then we'll talk when you get back." she circled back to her original point. He nodded at her, giving her a half of a smile.

He knew he should get up from the bed, go meet with Sam and the rest of the team, but he didn't want to leave her quite yet. She couldn't come along - hell, Natasha could barely come along, but it still didn't make it any easier to leave her. Before he got off the bed, she leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek. He smiled at the action, then reached out to squeeze her hand one last time.

After he left, she waited a moment before getting off of the cot. She stretched her body out, trying to sense any pain - if anything it was a small ache in her muscles from lack of use. But at least she had finally gotten some sleep. Drug induced sure, but sleep nonetheless. She wrapped the blanket around her frame, noticing that she was in just a pair of sweats and a flannel that she had seen Dawson wear a few times.

At that realization, she quickly glanced around the area she was in, slowly pushing herself off of the cot. If she was wearing his flannel, he had to be here. She vaguely remembered hearing his voice, though he wasn't there while she was stoned and talking to Steve. But that didn't mean he wasn't somewhere else.

Before she went in search for him, he came around the corner of the room divider - almost like he had sensed that she was about to go looking for him. He was holding a Red Bull and a Hostess snack of some sort. Her heart felt like it was about to explode from happiness - she had never been so happy to see him in her life. Practically launching herself at him, she tackled him in a hug. He groaned in annoyance, immediately pushing her off, but she knew that he was just as happy to see her up and about. The small smile on his face gave it away.

"Glad to see you're awake." he kind of shoved her gently toward the cot, wanting her to sit back down. She obliged, not being able to hide the grin on her face as she did. Even though there were still so many questions that had yet to be answered, she still felt marginally better than she had in ages. "Now I can properly yell at you for crashing the Tesla." he added on with a dramatic sigh. She let out a wince at the reminder as he sat down next to her, handing her the Hostess snack.

"Sorry." she squeaked out before sitting up a bit straighter, raising a hand up, "But for the record, it wasn't my fault. Sam hit my car." he raised his eyebrows at her, making a face.

"Oh, did he now?" he asked, matching her tone. She let her hand drop to her lap and slumped down a bit. He rocked into her shoulder, making her sway a bit, "Hey, I'm kidding. It's okay. It actually...helped." she side-eyed him.

"Really?" she asked, sounding unconvinced. He nodded, chugging a bit of his drink before taking in a breath to explain.

"When you crashed it, the systems went offline. I got an alert and we figured something went wrong and came up with a way to get to you before Rumlow and his cronies did."

"But they did get to us…" she pointed out,

"And then Maria busted you out of there, remember?" he finished with a slight smirk, wanting her to believe that had been the plan all along, when in reality - they had scrambled it together at the last possible second. She let out an amused scoff, not really believing him, but deciding not to question it further. It didn't matter; they had been saved and reunited.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, a question she never heard from him before. Up until that moment, she never realized how much he cared for her. She cared about him immensely, but he had always had a good way of hiding how much he did for her.

"Better." she repeated what she had told Steve; it was the truth. She looked down at the flannel she was in, pulling it out from the chest area before looking over at him with a slight smile, "Did you…?"

"No!" he rocked back, shaking his head furiously as he laughed out, "No, no no no, that was not me." he shook his head again before gesturing to her, "Rogers did that. He took care of you." his comment made her heart flutter a bit at the idea of Steve taking care of her while she was recovering, "I had...other things to take care of."

"Like Nat?" she teased with a waggle of her eyebrows. He rolled his eyes at her before clapping her thigh and making her yelp in both pain and surprise.

"There's someone you're gonna wanna see." he changed the subject as she glared at him for hitting her injured thigh. He ignored it, getting to his feet and holding out his hand for her.

Taking it, she followed him around the corner of the room divider. She didn't know what she was expecting to see, but it certainly wasn't the mock hospital that was in the main area. It was complete with a bed and about a thousand different machines to monitor different things. Who else was in the tunnels with them?

"About time you woke up." she heard a deep voice from across the area. She looked over to see Fury standing with a cup of coffee in his hand, very much alive.

"Holy fuck." she breathed out before immediately crossing over the room and throwing her arm around his neck in a hug. Then, immediately realizing what she had done, she stepped back quickly, "Sorry, sir." she cleared her throat and stood up a bit straighter, ignoring the tears that were threatening to fall. She couldn't believe he was alive. She watched him die, but there he was, standing right in front of her. He let out a small chuckle and she heard Dawson's amused snort from behind her.

"That's alright, Proctor." he waved her off before turning and walking away from her. She didn't know if she should follow, but she had too many questions not to.

"How are you alive?" she asked the most important one as she followed him through a curtain of vertical leather blinds and to a kitchen area that had been set up. He chuckled again and then sighed,

"The amount of times I've been asked that in the past twenty-four hours..." he sat down in a chair at the head of the table. She made a face at the back of his head, eyes wide as she waited for answer, "Take a seat, Proctor. You shouldn't be on your feet with that leg of yours." he pointed out. The leather curtains slapped against each other as someone else stepped into the area.

"He's right, you know." Dawson came up behind her - for a second, she forgot he was there with her. His hand went to her lower back to gently push her toward the other chairs.

Once she was seated, Fury caught her up to speed, telling her about what happened before he had "died" at Steve's, the way he survived and why only a few people knew about it. And much to her surprise, Dawson had been one of the few people who were in on it the whole time: the Deep Shadow Protocol, knowing about Project Insight, and even tracking Q with the Tesla to keep an eye on her - which he had told her about earlier, but Fury had just reiterated it.

"Can I ask another question?" she finally spoke after a moment. Her gaze shifted from the table to meet his eye. He motioned to her with his hand, indicating that she could, "Why didn't you trust me?" Of course, once she figured out that he hadn't told her because he didn't trust her, it stung like a thousand bees had attacked her. She thought she had done enough work in the last ten years for SHIELD and on herself personally, that she had gained a least a little bit of Fury's trust. But it was very clear that she hadn't. She didn't know whether to be upset with herself or angry at him. Fury sighed heavily, as if he had been expecting that.

"I'd say it wasn't personal, Proctor, but…" he trailed off. She sat back in her chair, waiting for him to explain more, "I found out about the company you kept in your bed." he put it plainly. Her cheeks immediately flushed and she felt her throat locked up. She could practically feel Dawson's smirk directed at her - of course he found this amusing, "When I learned that Rumlow was dirty, I was worried that he might have compromised you." he gestured to her again, "And it wasn't so much a trust issue than a...self-preservation issue." he pointed out, but she still took it as he didn't trust her.

"But you let me continue to work with Ste-Captain Rogers." she caught herself, growing more confused than anything else. Fury sighed again.

"I had to make sure you didn't think anything was out of the ordinary." he told her, "You would be able to tell immediately." he gave her what seemed to be a semi-compliment, but the circumstances just made her turn red with embarrassment.

She tried to remember all the times she had interacted with Rumlow while in the Triskelion - she thought she had been so careful. There were rules for a reason, this reason, but Fury still found out and punished her for it. She felt like she was a recruit again, small and stupid and having to gain his trust all over again. She cleared her throat, not really knowing how to follow up. She wanted to be angry, but the only person she could be angry at was herself. Fury was just making sure that he was safe - she would've done the same.

"I'm sorry, sir." she settled on as if that made up for everything. "I had no idea about his position in Hydra." Fury raised his eyebrows and Dawson went to make a joke, but she elbowed him in the side to stop him before he did, "And please know that I'll do whatever it takes to prove to you that it meant nothing." she left off the part about working harder to earn his trust; she thought that was clear under the circumstances.

"Trust me, I'm very aware that it meant nothing." he sounded like he knew something she didn't and she shot a confused look to Dawson, who didn't give her any answers either. She turned her gaze back to Fury, locking eyes with him as he continued. He leaned forward as if he wanted to make sure he got his point across, "With everything that has happened, you've certainly proved which side you are on, Q. I'm proud to have you here as an asset." he nodded at her. She held his gaze, looking for any signs of lying; she wasn't used to him being so...open with his feelings toward her. But she could tell he was being serious and truthful. She let out a breath she wasn't aware she had been holding and nodded once,

"Thank you, sir." she managed out, eyes shifting away from him as a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. The rollercoaster of emotions she had just went on was over, settling in a place she was content with - proud of, even; Fury sure as hell was of her.

"Now, once the others get back," he sat back in his seat, changing the subject, "we'll finalize our plan to take down the helicarriers." she nodded, becoming serious again.

It was only a matter of time until the final battle to save humanity began.


	45. a safety net

"This man declined the Nobel Peace Prize." Fury recounted as he stared at the picture of him and Secretary Pierce, "He said peace wasn't an achievement, it was a responsibility." he quoted before letting out a disappointed sigh, "See, it's stuff like this that gives me trust issues." he said matter of factly before tossing the photo away from him. It landed amongst the other files Maria had managed to steal before leaving SHIELD so she wouldn't be targeted by the takeover.

While Steve and a few others were on their heist mission, Q had been catching up. She learned that Pierce was the ringleader of the Hydra takeover. He had used his position of power with the World Security Council to push forward his goals, but under the guise that they were also SHIELD's goals and for the good of the people. He had played his part and his victory was only a few short hours away from launching.

"We have to stop the launch." Steve stated the obvious. He was hovering near her chair, wanting to keep an eye on her and make sure she was okay while they had their conversation. Dawson was sitting across from her, with Fury on the other side and Maria by him. Natasha had taken the seat next to Dawson while Sam stood a few steps away from Steve.

"Yeah no shit, Sherlock." Dawson sassed back with a slight eye roll.

"I don't think the Council's accepting my calls anymore." Fury added with a huff of a laugh, even though nothing about the situation was funny. Time was ticking down and soon the bomb would explode.

"Okay so what do we do?" Q cut in before anyone else could say anything else. She glanced around the group, lifting her hand in the air, "I mean, how do we stop it?" Her gaze landed back on Dawson, who leaned forward in his seat to grab the case which had been sitting on the table the entire time. She didn't think anything of it - figuring it was some sort of hardware she wasn't allowed to touch. He clicked the locks on the front and opened up the top, then spun it around dramatically to show them what was inside.

He made a gesture similar to the one Vanna White used on Wheel of Fortune. There were three equally sized chips with similar designs of code etched into them. It didn't mean anything to her or, she assumed, anyone else sitting across from the three who were the only ones in the know.

"What are they?" she asked the obvious question, ignoring his annoyed expression to her question.

"Safety nets." he explained shortly. She raised her eyebrows, vaguely remembering him talk about something like that several weeks ago. But he never expanded on it. Just like he wasn't then. Her gaze shifted over to Maria, who was more willingly to explain what the chips actually did.

"Once the helicarriers reach three thousand feet, they'll triangulate with Insight satellites, becoming fully weaponized." she started to explain, opening up a corresponding laptop and pulling up a demonstration onto the screen. Turning it around, she allowed the others to see a concept video of what she was saying, "We need to breach those carriers and replace their targeting blades with our own." she glanced to Steve and then Natasha, really the only ones capable of doing such a thing, "One or two won't cut it. We need to link all three carriers for this to work, because if even one of those ships remains operational…" she paused for dramatic effect, "a whole lot of people are gonna die." her tone was final and serious, wanting to get her point across as clearly as she could. Q looked from her to Dawson, who was picking at the skin under his thumb with his finger.

"And you made these?" she asked. He scoffed at her question, like she was asking him if he made the brownies for the school bake sale.

"Obviously." he shifted forward in his seat, folding his arms on top of the table before launching into the specs of the chips. Q barely understood what any of his nerd talk meant, so she tuned out until she heard him say, "Hill's right. This is the only way to make sure those things never hurt anyone."

"You're the one who helped make these things in the first place." Steve pointed out, face serious. Dawson's eyes turned to him and his jaw clenched, as was his fist.

"Trust me, I know. If I'd had figured it out sooner…." he trailed off sounding regretful. Then he took in a deep breath, readying himself for what he was about to say next, "It's my fault. I should've paid more attention to the code. I was just following orders -"

"For once in your life." Q couldn't help but jab. She knew it wasn't the right time, but it was practically instinct. He shot her an unamused look before continuing,

"But now I'm trying to make it right." he defended himself, "I - we - can't do this without you guys." he added with a quick glance around the table. No one else said anything; either all thinking about his involvement in the project or the fact that they really were needed.

"We have to assume everyone aboard those carriers is Hydra." Fury cut in, getting people's attention. Dawson nodded, leaning forward a little more so he could gesture to the box of chips,

"We have to get past them, insert these server blades -"

"Then maybe, just maybe we can salvage what's left -" Fury cut in, only to be cut off by Steve's quick disagreement,

"We're not salvaging anything." he said matter of factly, "We're not just taking down the carriers, Nick. We're taking down SHIELD."

"SHIELD had nothing to do with this." Fury argued. A humorless laugh escaped Q, causing eyes to slide toward her. Realizing what her reaction was, she took a glance around the room, sitting up in her seat, arms crossed over her stomach.

"You're kidding right?" she asked, eyes focusing on Fury, "SHIELD had everything to do with this. SHIELD took on the project, hell, even encouraged the project. You're the one who approved everything Dawson did and brought in Stark to take a look at the turbines so they would run smoother." she paused to take in a breath, "You are just as much at fault as Dawson is, if not more." she said seriously. Fury looked almost stunned by what she said. She had talked back to him before, disagreed with him even, but this was something else entirely.

"SHIELD's been compromised." Steve chimed in and Q felt like he was backing her up, "You said so yourself Hydra grew right under your nose and nobody noticed." he pointed out seriously. Fury let out a breath of a chuckle,

"Why do you think we're meeting in this cave?" he glanced around before leaning forward a bit, "I noticed."

"How many paid the price before you did?" Steve snapped back, growing angry and frustrated with the Director. Q held her breath as he and Fury kept in a tense stare down for a moment before Fury let out a resigned sigh,

"Look, I didn't know about Barnes." he lifted his hand up toward Steve while he sat back in his seat at the same time.

"Even if you had, would you have told me? Or would you have compartmentalized that, too?" he responded, tone salty and almost like he was calling Fury out. Q wasn't surprised by it, but she was impressed and weirdly proud of him. "SHIELD, Hydra." Steve moved on, "it all goes." he said seriously. Q knew he was right, but Fury seemed surprised by his announcement.

He individually looked at everyone at the table, hoping for someone to disagree. Natasha didn't react at all, which was a reaction in and of itself. Everyone knew she would follow Steve to the ends of the Earth - and so would Q. When Fury's eyes landed on her, she only gave a challengingly raise of her eyebrows. Even though SHIELD had been the only home she had for the past ten years, it had become infected. The only way to save it was to destroy it. Fury seemed to understand her silent answer and moved on to Dawson, who heaved a sigh and then shrugged, raising his hand up to gesture to where Steve was. He was in agreement. Fury then turned to face his right hand woman, who had her hands clasped in front of her face and gave him a sympathetic look before saying,

"He's right." in agreement to what Steve had said. Fury finally looked to Sam, who shook his head, hands planted on his hips in a similar manner to how Steve stood.

"Don't look at me." he denied Fury's silent request for someone to agree with him, "I do what he does, just slower." Q looked over to him and gave him a small smile; proud that he had stayed by Steve's side, even though she had expected nothing less.

"Well…" Fury glanced around the group one last time to see if anyone would change their mind. When it became clear everyone was set in their decision, he looked back to Steve, "It looks like you're giving the orders now, Captain." he passed the mantle. She looked over her shoulder to see the serious expression on his face. He shifted into Captain mode right in front of them as seamlessly as ever.

"Then we better get ready." his Captain Voice was evident in his tone. His gaze dropped down to Q's and she gave him a half smile, ready to follow him wherever he needed to go.

The group disbanded shortly after so they could figure out the smaller details of their plan. Each of them had a different role to play. Natasha would be posing as one of the World Security Council members, using the Photostatic Veil to bypass the security measures. Once they got the signal, Dawson would be accompanying Fury to the Triskelion so they could override the system and bring down SHIELD from the inside while everyone else made sure the helicarriers never hurt a soul. Steve and Sam would be the ones going from helicarrier to helicarrier with Dawson's chips and switching out the old ones with the new ones. Maria and Q would be on the ground - Maria keeping an eye on the helicarriers and making sure all was going to plan while Q would be...there too.

If she was being honest, she didn't feel like she had much of a role at all. Sure they told her she would be sending out the evacuation notice for the DC Metro area and the Triskelion itself, but Dawson had already programmed it into a tablet. All she had to do was connect the tablet into a USB port and press a button once. She knew she couldn't do much else in this situation except just stay out of the way. She didn't have any superpowers or fun gadgets, she couldn't really fight, and she had zero knowledge of the Project Insight helicarriers and their programs. But she wished there was something she could do in order to feel semi-useful.

Trying to be prove she could be semi-useful, she found herself at the long table that housed all their weapons. She only knew a few of the handguns; the bigger guns were too complicated for her. While the others hammered out their details, she looked over the guns she knew, making sure they were loaded and safeties were on. She wasn't a huge fan of guns; they had gotten her in more trouble than she ever needed, but she knew they were necessary in a situation like this. Though she would make sure they were all using them safely.

"Hey," Steve got her attention from the weapon table, sounding like he had been looking all over for her. In a way, she had used the chance to escape to the weapon table as a way to have a pity party for herself.

"Hi." she gave him a small smile. He took that as an invitation to continue, tilting his head to the side, toward the makeshift recovery room she had spent several hours in earlier.

"Can we talk?" he asked and she straightened up at his question. Carefully putting down the gun she was working on, she moved away from the table and let him lead her around the room divider. They sat down next to each other on the edge of the cot and she gave him an encouraging smile, wanting him to start the conversation.

"How's the arm?" he asked with a slight nod toward her sling. She glanced down before looking back over at him with a little laugh,

"I can manage." she moved her arm up and down to show him what she meant - trying to prove that she wasn't limited just because of her sling, "Did pretty well checking out those guns one handed." she pointed out, reminding him of the sight he came upon a few moments ago. He had to admit that seeing her handle weaponry like that was a little bit of a turn on. He always thought of her as someone to stay on the sidelines or in the background; it was just safer for all parties involved. But she did know how to handle a few of the guns - and one handed nonetheless. Maybe after all this was over, they could really start to strength whatever secret abilities she had before SHIELD recruited her.

"I have something for you." he said after a moment with a slight eyebrow raise. She matched his expression, curious to what he could have possibly gotten her in between the time he was gone until that moment.

He turned to where he had set something by him on the cot - she didn't even realize he had something in his hands when he came in. Pulling it to his lap, she realized it was a small pile of folded up clothes. Her eyes moved from the pile to his face, curiosity spreading across her features as she waited for him to explain.

"I realized that you don't have a uniform," he started, going a direction she never could've seen coming, "Well, I guess your business suits are technically a uniform, but -" he lightly teased her, scrunching up his face a bit. She gasped in mock offense before giving him a light slap on the arm and hearing him laugh, "Anyway, I snagged this when we stole my old uniform." he finished, handing her the clothes. She took them in her good hand and unfolded the jacket, seeing the patches on the navy coat.

"Is this…" she trailed off at the sight of the familiar coat.

"It was Bucky's." he finished for her, making her look over to him. She started to shake her head because,

"No, Steve, I can't wear this -"

"You can't fight a war without a uniform." he cut her off with a serious look, "I want you to wear it. Be like Agent Three-Five-Five." the reference got her attention. Meeting his eyes with a soft look, her heart warmed; he remembered something she had told him several months ago - even before any of this happened, when they were still Agent and Captain.

Ducking her head down to hide her smile, she went about folding the coat back up properly, almost reverently. Still feeling Steve's eyes on her, she cleared her throat, wanting to shift the focus off herself for a moment.

"Are you going to be okay during this?" she asked, turning her head to the side so she could look at him, "I mean...with Bucky and all?" she clarified, even though both knew what she was referring to. Steve took in a deep breath and looked across the room. His hand started to rub against his thigh and he took a moment to gather his thoughts.

"When my mother died," he started, getting a faraway look in his eyes that she had become used to when he started telling a story from before, "Bucky was the only one I had left. And even when I didn't want him there, he was still there." a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth has he recounted a moment after his mother's funeral.

Bucky had found him back at his apartment after he had escaped the wake. Steve had gone back to the graveyard, just to take one last look at where his mother would be for the rest of his life. He wanted to be alone, wallow in his own grief, but Bucky was having none of it. He practically forced Steve to have a sleepover with him, even though they were well past the sleepover age. But that's just how Bucky was, always making sure Steve was taken care of. It always came Steve, then himself. And even that extended into war.

"We were with each other til the end of the line." he finished with a sad half smile. She let a moment go by to see if he was going to continue. When it was clear that he wasn't, she spoke again,

"You didn't answer my question." she pointed out fairly. His story about Bucky was telling, but it told her nothing about how he would be if Bucky showed up again. She saw how he reacted the first time he saw Bucky and worried that it would happen again, endangering the mission. He took in a breath and then looked over at her,

"Sam said he isn't the kind of guy you save, he's the kind you stop." he quoted him. She waited for him to continue, "I don't think I can stop him." he dropped his head down, sounding disappointed in himself, "But I don't know how to save him either." he added on. Reaching out to take his hand in hers, she ran her thumb over his knuckles. She wasn't sure what to say to that, but he continued before she needed to, "I'm going to try though." he lifted his head up to look over at her, "If there's a way I can make him recognize me again, I'm going to try." she nodded, understanding how important this was for him.

"Just...remember that he's not the same guy he was seventy years ago." she reminded him carefully. He raised his eyebrows up slightly.

"Neither am I." he responded matter of factly. She held eye contact with him for a moment, almost like she was trying to see into his head and figure out his plan if Bucky were to appear again. But she knew there was no point in trying to stop him; Bucky was his best friend. He loved him and wasn't about to let Hydra take him away again.

"Okay." she agreed. If he was confident in himself, then so was she. She reached out to take his hand in her uninjured one, "I'll be right there with you." she assured him, knowing he understood that she didn't mean literally. "Til the end of the line." she repeated what he said a few moments earlier. The corners of his mouth quirked up as they held eye contact for a moment more.

No one besides Bucky had even said that to him before and he was half expecting it to bring back nothing but painful memories. Instead, the way she said it echoed around him. She was sure of herself and was ready to stand by her statement, even if she only knew the bare bones of the story behind the phrase. No matter what, she would be by his side as long as he needed her to be.

Acting on the sudden urge to kiss her, he moved his hand to cup the side of her face. He pulled her closer to him as he leaned forward to close the space. Their lips brushed against each other in the first kiss since a few nights before when they shared much more than kisses. She kissed him back immediately, heart on fire as he deepened the kiss.

With what they were about to do, he didn't know how many more he would be able to get or give. He cursed himself for not kissing her more or finding new ways to kiss her. Time always seemed to be against him. It wasn't fair.

Unfortunately, it was like the kiss ended quicker than it started. She was pulling away, but he kept his hand on her cheek - wanting to touch her as much as possible before leaving. She wasn't about to argue, resting her forehead against his. Their eyes met and the softness in his eyes made her want to melt. No one had ever looked at her like he did and each time he looked at her, her heart took over. All she wanted was to live in this moment forever: just the two of them, with him looking at her the way he was.

But reality was in motion and she suddenly realized what they were getting themselves into. There was a very good chance that they would fail. If she had any of her software, she could predict their outcomes and figure out the one with the best chance of victory. But they didn't have any of that - nor did they have the time.

"Say what's in your head." his voice prompted her, a bit rough from the kiss they shared, but still as soft as ever. She gave him a tiny smile, reminding herself that he said head and not heart. There was a difference; her heart was screaming about him and how she should tell him how she felt about him over and over again, in different ways, just so he knew. Her head, on the other hand…

"I'm...worried about what might happen while you're on those helicarriers and I'm on the ground." she admitted, glancing down. He pulled back so he could look at her fully. She lifted her head up to meet his gaze, seeing how seriously he was staring at her.

"You don't have to be worried, Queenie." he said with a slight shake of his head.

"Of course I do." she laughed a little, even though it wasn't a joke. She opened her mouth to remind him that he was her assignment before shutting it; he wasn't - he was much more now.

"You'll be in my ear the whole time," he assured her, "And I'll be in yours." he reminded her, "You'll have eyes everywhere. All you have to worry about is keeping yourself safe." he paused, making sure he got his point across. She nodded, glancing down to where her uninjured hand drifted over to hold his hand. If keeping herself safe was what he wanted her job to be, then she would make damn sure she would do it.

A few minutes later, he left her to dress herself in Bucky's war uniform. He gave her the privacy but also made sure that he was with the rest of the group so no one would suspect anything happening between them. She was grateful he was putting in so much effort to try and hide their quasi-relationship from the rest, but based on their reactions to their interactions, she was pretty sure everyone already knew.

The uniform fit her snugly. It was a lot heavier than she expected it to be, which made sense considering the weather conditions the Commandos worked in. She took another pain pill before reentering the main area so that her wrist wouldn't bother her for the rest of the afternoon. The sling helped alleviate some of the pain as well so she kept it on, even though it ruined the aesthetic of the uniform.

When she walked around the room divider, she saw Natasha was struggling a bit with her business suit. Q crossed over to the room to help her out, getting a grateful smile from Nat.

"I don't know how you wear these things every day, suit." she sighed, shrugging in the suit jacket as she tried to get used to the fit, "There's no room for movement."

"I think that's the point." Q muttered back, making sure the seams fell correctly. Nat glanced over her shoulder to give her an amused smile.

"Well, I admire your dedication." she complimented her. Q made eye contact with her and the two woman shared a smile. Natasha turned back to face front, looking down at the file folder of recon on the woman she would be impersonating.

"Nat," Q started, moving around the front as she spoke to be in Natasha's line of vision again, "About what I said on the causeway…" she started, making Nat look up to meet her eye, "I'm sorry." she apologized plainly, "There was so much happening and I think I was a little high on adrenaline and I…" she trailed off, not really knowing where she was going with her excuse, "I want to know that I do trust you. Now." she added as a clarification. Natasha took in a breath, eyes leaving hers for a moment as she mumbled,

"That seems to be a theme lately." she looked back at Q with a tight smile, "I get it." she nodded, "I know I don't have the best track record."

"Neither do I." she scoffed with a gesture to herself. Natasha laughed a little, looking off to the side for a moment.

"For the record," she looked back at her, then stepped up to press her hands on Q's shoulder, "I've always trusted you, Q." she said genuinely. Her mouth opened a little bit at that, not expecting it and not knowing how to respond to it. She was at a loss for words; she never thought that someone like Natasha would ever trust her.

Before she could say anything, Natasha was moving her hands up to gather Q's hair up in a ponytail - something she couldn't do on her own. Then Dawson came over with something in his hands for Nat. I t was a slimmer silver box that no doubt contained the Photostatic Mask. She lingered by the two, listening to him talk Natasha through how to activate and how to deactivate it. As she watched them, she could tell the two were closer than she originally realized. Sure, she teased Dawson about it, but the way they were standing and looking at each other - she was able to quickly pick up that it was much more than a simple fling.

Soon the others were gathering around the area. The shift in the air was palpable; moving from something light to much more serious. The time had come for the group to go their separate ways and complete their parts of the mission so the whole thing could succeed as a whole.

"Steve, Sam, Q and I will head to the Triskelion." Maria started to do a final run through of the plan, "We'll take over the control tower and use that as our base. Sam and Steve will go from there to the helicarriers to switch out the chips. Q will send out the evac notice and help me keep an eye on the helicarriers from the ground." she explained as her eyes shifted to Dawson and Natasha, "Natasha will use her cover to access the Triskelion, which will take her straight to Pierce. Dawson will accompany Fury to the Triskelion once he receives the alert from Natasha." she eyed each of them, making sure they each understood their role. All of them nodded at various points during the overview which satisfied her.

The group moved around the main area to gather the things they needed. Hushed conversations were had between a few of them, confirming things or reminding each other of things they might not be aware of. Steve was with Q, talking about other SHIELD agents that still might be in the dark. He had to admit that seeing her in Bucky's uniform was a weird thing. Not in a necessarily bad way; she looked good in it, though...it was like his worlds were colliding. The past and the present becoming one - almost like she had assumed to role Bucky had before, even though she was completely different than him. He was reminded of how Bucky reacted when he first got it; it was different than the one he wore in the 107th. He talked about how much it made him feel like a part of the team, but still like he could be himself. He wondered if she felt that way as well.

Though Dawson interrupted before he could make a comment on the uniform. She turned away from him when she felt Dawson's hand on her arm. Steve stepped back a little to give the two friends a chance to have a moment together

"Hey, sorry, I just…" Dawson trailed off for a moment before taking in a breath, "I really hope this isn't the last time we see each other." he admitted. She let out a small, humorless laugh.

"You and me both, pal." she gave him a smile, one which he quickly returned. Taking a step forward, he reached out place his hands on the sides of her face. Before she could even figure out what was happening, his lips were softly pressing against hers.

The kiss was sweet, but it wasn't a proclamation of his secret love for her or anything like that. It was nothing more than him trying to show how much he cared about her. It didn't mean anything, but it meant everything at the same time. He was her best friend and she his. They shared a lifetime together without even realizing it until that moment - the very end. She smiled against his lips, hands coming up to wrap around his wrists as she returned the kiss for a moment. He pulled back, hands still on the sides of her face as he looked at her seriously,

"Don't fuck this up." he told her. She laughed a little and then fixed him with the same look he was giving her,

"I think you have a more important job than me." she reminded him. He stared at her for a moment before pursing his lips and dropping his hands from her face - his usual annoyed expression returning. Moving past her, he stepped up to Steve, who he patted on his chest.

"You can get me back for that later, old man." he sighed. Steve raised his eyebrows at him, unsure how he should react. As Dawson walked by him, his gaze landed on Q - noticing the grin on her face which told him he didn't have to worry about anything. They were friends, best friends - as close as he was to Bucky at one point.

Too soon it was time to split up and go their separate ways. Q followed the rest of her group to the Triskelion control tower. They took the van as far as they could without getting caught then ditched it on a side road. Choosing to walk the rest of the way, Q lagged behind because of her leg and brought up the rear. They broke through the brush and came face to face with the building, still several yards away, but it was massive enough to make them pause. What used to be a sanctuary, a home for her, now looked like an evil lair - sinisterly looming over the DC Metro area.

The easy part was getting to the control room. The agents were quick to give up their posts when they saw who was forcing them to do so. Plus the guns Maria and Sam had pointed at them didn't hurt either. Once they were settled, Steve used the broadcast system to get a message across the Triskelion. He was flanked by Maria and Sam while Q leaned against the windows, looking down at where the city spread out below them. She hoped people listened to the evacuation alert, wanting there to be almost zero casualties.

"Attention all SHIELD agents, this is Steve Rogers." she turned back to watch as Steve started his speech. She wasn't even aware he was going to make one until they were halfway there and he mentioned something about warning the other, uncompromised SHIELD agents. They could use all the help they could get or they could save more than they would if they didn't say anything.

"...SHIELD is not what we thought it was. It's been taken over by Hydra." he dropped the metaphorical bomb on those in the Triskelion. No matter how many times Q heard it or saw it in action, the reminder that SHIELD was basically Hydra sent a sharp stabbing pain through her sternum. She had been betrayed before - in a much worse way, but this felt even more personal. Probably because she had spent so much time at SHIELD trying to better herself and in the end, it didn't even matter; she was still on the wrong side, working for the wrong people.

"...If you launch those helicarriers today, Hydra will be able to kill anyone that stands in their way. Unless we stop them." he continued seriously. Whenever he used his Captain Voice, he sounded much more in control and confident than some of the times she had seen him. His hands were braced on the desk in front of him, shield strapped to his back: a bright reminder of who he was. A patriot who never stopped fighting for what was morally right, even if it meant doing the wrong thing. She kept her eyes locked on the star in the middle of the shield, focusing on it as he finished his speech.

"I know I'm asking a lot. But the price of freedom is high. It always has been. And it's a price I'm willing to pay. And if I'm the only one, then so be it. But I'm willing to bet I'm not." God, it was so good. If he wasn't a superhero, she could definitely see him as a politician. He knew how to inspire people to be better, do good, and become their best selves. Hopefully it was enough to have SHIELD agents get up off their asses.

"Did you write that down first," Sam broke the silence that rolled over after he finished his speech, "or was it off the top of your head?" he joked with a grin. Q laughed at his teasing; it was true - Steve always was able to come up with rousing speeches off the top of his head. Steve glanced over his shoulder with an amused grin of his own, looking from Q to Sam.

"I'm Captain America." he responded as if that was enough of an excuse. His eyes shifted back over to her to give her a quick wink and she ducked her head down so that he couldn't see her grin. How he could still joke in a time like this only proved how much progress he had made since they first started. He pushed off the desk and let Maria take over the control desk as Sam and Steve got ready to leave.

"Slight issue." Maria carefully said, her tone tight, "Someone got into the systems and recalibrated the countdown." she turned in her chair to look up at the rest of them, "We have less than fifteen minutes."

"Fuck." Q cursed under her breath, moving to the screens Maria was set up in front of to confirm what she said. Someone had overrode the launch sequence - the helicarriers were taking off in a matter of minutes.

"Jar." Steve muttered out instinctively. She shot a look over her shoulder at him as he fixed his gloves.

"Not the time." she reminded him, "Go, you've still got a lot to do." she tilted her head to the door. Sam headed for it first, Steve lingered behind for a moment. He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead just gave her a tight nod and a brief smile, eyes shifting over to Maria,

"Good luck." he settled on, swallowing hard. Maria returned the smile, as did Q, and he took that as his cue to leave.

With Q safely locked in the control room with Maria, Steve could focus fully on the mission at hand. Or so he had thought. He had figured that with Q far enough from danger, he wouldn't be worrying about her; he knew she was safe. But even as they climbed aboard the first helicarrier, his mind replayed their last moment together: what he said, how she looked at him, what he did...He should've said something else. Something to let her know how much he actually cared about her - no. how much he loved her.

If anyone saw him walking with Sam, he doubted they would be able to tell what was going on inside him at the realization that he loved Q. Of course he did. He didn't know why it took him this long, to this moment, to figure it out. He loved her! He loved her. A part of him wanted to turn around and run back to the control room to tell her. But it wasn't the right time.

It never was with him, was it? There was always something happening: an accident, a war, or a mission that prevented him from ever having a chance to really just say what was in his heart rather than his head. Bucky, Peggy, and now Q. He wondered if any of them really knew how much they meant to him.

Vowing to tell Q how much he loved her the moment he could, he refocused himself entirely on the mission. He reminded himself that she was safe with Maria - far, far away from the helicarriers or what was happening on the World Security Council level of the Triskelion. He would see her again and he would tell her. The only thing he had to do first, was make sure those helicarriers never got in the air.

Steve had two of the chips, while Sam had the other one. His wings allowed him to get to the further one while Steve would take care of the other two, hopefully in enough time for Maria to take control of the systems.

"Hey, Cap," Sam called out as they ran for the rising helicarriers, "how do we know the good guys from the bad guys?" he asked curiously, but almost like he was trying to lighten the mood.

"If they're shooting at you, they're bad." Steve answered matter of factly, knowing it was the most obvious answer, but also the only one they could go off. There wasn't a list of names of who were Hydra and who were just regular SHIELD agents caught in a war they didn't want to be a part of.

Satisfied with his answer, Sam engaged his wings and jet pack. Using the platform as his runway, he took off toward the furthest helicarrier. Steve jumped off the ledge, down onto the first helicarrier.

Tucking and rolling, he got to his feet as fast as he could, ready for whatever the crew had in store for him. They immediately started shooting at him and he quickly brought his shield up to deflect the bullets, jumping onto a block of boxes to roll over and drop onto the ground below. He wove around the top of the helicarrier, trying to get to the central hub while defending himself at the same time.

One tried to jump him from around the corner, but he quickly grabbed him and threw him up against a container hard enough to knock him out. He pulled a grenade from the man's gear, waited a moment, then tossed it around toward the bigger group that was advancing closer. Once the grenade went off, he used the smoke as a screen to move forward. He took out multiple men as he did: kicking, punching, using his shield to get to where he needed to be.

"Eight minutes, Steve." Q's voice came over his comm. He tossed his shield to take out one of the last men that was standing in front of him and the door to the main server. When the shield bounced back, he grabbed it and then brought up his wrist up to answer her,

"Working on it." he responded before heading for the door.

Maria watched Sam's progress, asking both to check in when they could, and kept an eye on the clock while Q had the blueprints of the helicarriers up in front of her. Dawson had previously marked where they were supposed to switch out the chips, so while Steve ran down the runway to the main server, she directed him to which column of chips he needed to access. He listened to all of her instructions, grateful to have her in his ear both coaching him and just reminding him that she was okay.

"Alpha lock." he said after switching out the chips. Maria made a noise of approval before moving on to check on Sam, "Q, switch to line two." he said into his comm, pressing a button so that he could open the private line between him and Q.

"Everything okay?" she asked as he ran back to the open area of the helicarrier.

"As okay as it can be right now." he sighed and he heard her laugh a little.

"Well, you're doing great. We've got two left and plenty of time to do it." she assured him, not wanting him to focus on the ticking clock, even though she had just told him he had less than ten minutes. He slowed down for a moment, taking a second to really talk to her before going back out there.

"Thank you, Queenie." he said after a moment, "I don't think I've ever thanked you for all that you did for me." he realized.

"Sure you have." she disagreed with him, "Maybe not out loud…" she trailed off making him chuckle. He kept on moving forward, jumping off the platform and going down the stairs, "But you've showed it." she paused, almost like she wanted to say something else, but then said, "Stop talking like that, Steve. It's too...final." she settled on, "You'll have plenty of time to thank me when you complete the mission." she reminded him, sounding like she was talking about something more than him saying thank you. He nodded, even though she couldn't see him.

"Right, well, thanks Q." he finished with a slight grin. She groaned, but he could hear the hint of laughter under it. "Switching back." he told her before pressing the button on his comm to switch back to the main line.

As he exited back out to the main helicarrier area, there were still a few Hydra crew members who were loading up for round two. This time with more than just guns - they were setting up a rocket launcher. He quickly took an alternative route, realizing there was only one way to get to the last helicarrier. Calling out to Sam over the comms, he asked for a ride right before he leapt off the edge of the helicarrier.

He trusted Sam enough to catch him - which he did, letting out a yell of pain as he pulled him up to the top of the third helicarrier. Promptly dropping him as soon as he could, Steve landed on his feet while Sam followed behind him.

"You know, you're a lot heavier than you look." he quipped. Steve tilted his head to the side, letting out a sigh,

"I had a big breakfast." he responded lightly. Over the years, he had learned that conversations in the middle of a mission didn't have to be all serious all the time. In fact, it was better when there was a joking tone to the conversation so that they weren't so bogged down with the what ifs of how the mission would end.

Though the jokes immediately stopped when someone came out of nowhere and body slammed him to the side. He went flying through the gate and over the edge of the helicarrier, tumbling down to the ground. Somehow, he managed to rotate his body so that he was able to grab onto the side of the turbine ledge of the helicarrier at the very last second,

"Cap! Cap, come in. Are you okay?" Sam's worried voice came over the line, breathless from a fight he had just lost.

"Yeah, I'm here. I'm still on the helicarrier!" he answered, pulling himself up onto the ledge and then look to see where his next move would be so he could get back to the entrance of the helicarrier. "Where are you?" he asked, hoping that Sam could help him out.

"I'm grounded. The suit's down. Sorry, Cap." he responded apologetically through labored breaths. Steve let out a sigh, knowing it probably wasn't his fault, but it would be harder to get to the center of the helicarrier without him

"Don't worry, I got it." he assured Sam before finding an alternative route to the main server. It was tricky, but he managed to get to the center of the helicarrier. Using the outside of the helicarrier as his way in, he thankfully didn't run in to any Hydra agents. He climbed up to the same runway the other helicarrier had that led straight to the core, which housed all the coded chips. But before he could take a step toward it, he stopped.

Because once again, he was face to face with an old friend.


	46. just in time

As the minutes until Project Insight launched clicked down on the massive screen in front of them, an agent called her over to his terminal. She moved over to where he was, pressing her hands down flat against the desk and looking at the screen. A video chat request was flashing slowly on the screen with her name in the body of the message.

"Who's it from?" Sharon asked, keeping her eyes on the screen.

"I couldn't trace it. The source kept bouncing me from tower to tower all over the world." the agent responded, sounding worried that he was in trouble. She screwed her mouth to the side and debated with herself for a moment. Then, she shooed the agent away, taking his seat and rolling forward to accept the request.

The cameras connected with a swooshing noise which allowed her to see who was trying to contact her. She took in a little surprised breath at the sight of Dawson leaning close to the camera, then quickly glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention to what she was doing. Obviously, she wasn't expecting him to be on the other side. After breaking Q out of the interrogation room, he had fell off the grid for the past two days. And because of what he did, SHIELD had put out an alert for him too - saying he was an accomplice to Captain Rogers and Q. But here he was now, having hacked into a computer terminal at ops to video chat her.

"Where are you?" she hissed out, leaning closer so no one would hear. He let out a scoff.

"Nice to see you too." he responded sarcastically. She gave him an unamused look; having known him for over ten years, she tired quickly of his personality, especially in situations like this, "Listen, I need your help." he continued, shifting in his seat. She tried to place the background behind him, but it just looked dark and cold like some sort of tunnel system, "I need access to SHIELD's old clearance scans. We're talking the high-ups, the OG's."

"Why?" she asked and he rolled his eyes at her response.

"Because." he answered simply, giving her a wide-eyed look as if that would stop her from questioning him. It didn't.

"I can't give you access to that -" she started only for him to cut her off with a groan, "Dawson, I'm serious." she overlapped him, fixing him with a hard look, "You aided and abetted Q, who -"

"Who what?" he cut her off before she could finish, "What did they tell you she did, huh?" she stayed quiet, knowing it was a rhetorical question, "They got her up there with Steve as threat level one - when have you ever seen her hurt a fly? She can barely lift her Big Gulp during lunch." She rolled her eyes slightly at the dramatics. He paused for a moment before fixing her with a pitying look, "Shar, come on. Use that pretty little brain of yours. You know something's off." he pushed. She looked off to the side, letting her eyes travel around the main floor of ops before her gaze shifted to the massive countdown screen.

On the side panels were two pictures: one of Captain Rogers and one of Q. Both labeled as high alerts. It still didn't sit right with her to see both of their pictures on the screen - and Pierce's explanation didn't sit right with her either. Dawson was right: something seemed off.

"What year do you need?" she asked, returning her attention back to the screen. His face broke out into a wide smile,

"I owe you." she rolled her eyes as he clapped his hands together. He leaned closer to the screen to tell her the year and she pulled up the database he wanted to let him have access to it.

"Thank you, Agent Carter." he mumbled to himself, scrolling through the database to get the name he wanted. If he didn't already know who he was looking for, it would've taken him hours - hours they didn't have.

"How's it going, son?" Fury asked, placing a few things down on the other end of the table. He looked down to nod at him, pulling the corners of his mouth down as he did.

"Good, yeah. Got access to the old database." he summarized briefly. Fury nodded, strapping guns into his holsters as he spoke,

"And Agent Romanoff?"

"Inside the Triskelion…" he trailed off, pulling up security camera footage of the World Security Council, "Meeting with Pierce and the others now." he added, eyes focused on Nat for a moment before his tablet dinged. His gaze shifted over and he tapped on the notification that came along with it.

In bright, big letters the emergency evacuation notice that Q was tasked with pushing out was flashing on the screen. It would be flashing on all the phones, laptops, tablets and other screens in the DC Metro area, including the Triskelion.

"Way to go, Q." Dawson muttered out, swiping the notification away, "Q just sent out the evacuation alert." he said a bit louder so Fury could hear him. She had done the one thing hs was supposed to do and did it right on time. It gave everyone enough time to either follow the evacuation notice or risk their lives.

"So everything's going according to plan." he stated, tone making it less like a question and more like a statement. Dawson nodded, looking over to him with raised eyebrows,

"Right on schedule." he agreed, but felt that things were going just a little too smoothly. Fury nodded to himself, seemingly pleased about the whole thing.

"Finish up quick." he instructed with a gesture to the laptop Dawson was working on, "We have to get going." He nodded before letting out a sigh and turning back to his laptop.

Before everyone went off on their separate missions, it was agreed that they weren't just taking down the helicarriers; they were also taking down SHIELD. Which meant they would need to get passed the encryption that kept all of SHIELD's secrets, well, secret. Figuring Pierce erased all of Fury's clearance from the Triskelion system, he realized they would need to come up with another way to disable the encryption - thus leading him to Sharon.

The database she had let him access was full of former SHIELD security clearances. Some had moved on to other places - CIA, FBI, etc. Others had to get new clearances when they moved up in the world of SHIELD, few had just simply died and left their clearances behind.

The one he was looking for was still alive, although Hydra and Pierce thought otherwise. The database housed Fury's original security clearance. The one before he lost his eye back in the nineties. Dawson made quick work of pulling the access pass and sending it to the main database so they could use it when they got to the Triskelion without going through the backway again.

"Think you can take that to go?" Fury asked, shrugging on his trench coat.

"Yup." he answered, closing the laptop and picking up his tablet instead. He pushed out of his chair and followed Fury out of the tunnels - they had someplace to be and a schedule to keep.

For some reason, a helicopter was in a clearing by the tunnels. He had no idea where or when they had gotten a helicopter, but it wasn't the right time to ask those questions.

"Sure you can fly this thing?" he asked, unsure of the Director's abilities, what with his arm in a sling. Fury shot him an unamused look,

"How about you keep that mouth of yours shut." he shot back, unamused by Dawson's question. He raised his hands up, making a face and not saying anything else back. He knew better than to get into a sass-off with the Director.

Climbing on to the helicopter, he buckled himself in and fitted the headphones over his ears. While Fury got the helicopter ready to fly, he focused on flipping through the security camera footage of what was going on in the Triskelion. Nat had already ditched her cover and was quickly taking out rouge STRIKE team officers. He couldn't help the proud smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth at the sight. There was something about a girl who could kick ass and take names that really did it for him.

"You got that security scan up?" Fury asked, voice crackling through the headphones. He nodded, pulling up the access key.

"Yup, just making sure it's back into the system." he responded as the helicopter engine started up. So not to freak out about Fury flying the chopper with one hand, he kept his eyes on the screen - focusing on his task.

They weren't that far from the Triskelion to begin with so the flight was relatively short. He used the time he had to check in on everyone else. Q and Maria were still in the tower, watching over Rogers and Wilson's progress with the helicarriers. The footage from the security camera on the World Security Council let him know that Nat had managed to get in control of Pierce's massive computer, letting her access the SHIELD network. The other members had guns pointed at Pierce just to make sure that he wouldn't try anything.

Fury carefully landed the chopper on the helipad at the Triskelion, switching off everything before pushing open the door. Dawson jumped out of his side, the window from the blades blowing his hair around while making Fury's jacket flutter back in a dramatic way. They walked down to the doors, where he held it open for Fury to make his grand reappearance.

Everyone on the Council looked stunned - even Pierce looked a little surprised to see him. Dawson stayed behind him, off to the side to keep an eye on the room. Nat made eye contact with him and he gave her a quick little wink.

"Did you get my flowers?" Pierce asked, hands on his hips. If he wasn't a terrible, horrible guy, Dawson would've laughed.

The surprise at Fury being alive had worn off rather quickly, now Pierce was just annoyed. The other Council members lowered their guns at Fury's arrival - thinking they had more strength now that he was back. Fury stepped down onto the floor to cross over to where Pierce was standing while Dawson moved over to where Nat was by the computer.

"Everything go okay?" he murmured, not wanting to draw attention to the two of them. She hummed in agreement, fingers tapping at the keyboard in front of her.

"You should've seen his face when I took out those guards…" she trailed off, a smirk tugging at her lips, "He was even more surprised than when Nick stepped off the chopper." he scoffed and glanced over to where Pierce and Fury were talking.

"Don't tell him that." he cautioned, getting a grin from her before she went back to the screens in front of her. He directed her to where he planted the clearance so they could disable the encryption.

"You're a genius, you know that?" she said quietly, pulling up the encryption. He grinned at her, but she refused to make eye contact with him.

"Takes one to know one." he semi-complimented her back. She did a quick double take before pursing her lips together in an effort to contain her smile.

With a few clicks, she stepped away from the terminal and let him take over. There was a handgun lying on the side of the terminal, which she picked up and pointed at Pierce as he was backed up against the big, main screens.

"Retinal scanner active." the system chimed, bringing up the display. Pierce let out a slight chuckle, turning to look at Fury,

"You don't think we've wiped your clearance from the system?" he asked, even though all of them already knew that happened. Fury didn't even blink,

"I know you erased my password. Probably deleted my retinal scan." he played along as he stepped back to the second screen, "But if you want to stay ahead of me, Mr. Secretary," he paused to flip up his eye patch, showing off his fucked up eye. Dawson grimaced, looking back down at the screens to make sure everything was working, "you need to keep both eyes open." Fury finished rather scarily, reminding everyone in the room why he was the Director of SHIELD. The men stepped up the screens to let the computer scan their retinals.

"Alpha level confirmed." the computer chimed, telling them that Fury's old retinal scan had been accepted as an Alpha code, "Encryption code accepted. Safeguards removed."

At that, Dawson made quick work of releasing everything in SHIELD's databases. He dumped it wherever he could, spreading it across public and private networks and making sure every SHIELD file was released - even his own, even Nat's, even Q's. The whole world would know about the things they did, both for SHIELD and before SHIELD. There was no turning back now.

"Done!" he cheered after a few minutes. He clapped his hands together as he took a step back, raising his arms up and looking around the room in front of him - almost expecting some sort of celebration for what he did.

But everyone was silent, either mourning the loss of SHIELD or realizing what that meant for them. Their eyes were on the massive screens which relayed what he said across them. The transfer was complete, the whole world would know everything about SHIELD and it's agents.

"And it's trending." Nat mused, looking at her phone.

All of a sudden, a loud sizzling noise broke through the somber silence of the room. The clips the other Council members were wearing surged with an electric shock. It was so powerful that they caught on fire, thus burning a hole into the wearer's chest. Right at their heart. One went down, then another and then the third - both Nat and Fury pulling their guns on Pierce, who so obviously had the trigger. But before she could fire, he stopped her,

"Don't." he warned her before continuing with a threat, "Unless you want a two inch hole in your chest, I'd put that gun down." he smirked at the former spy; he had the upper hand again, "That was armed the moment you pinned it on." Nat's eyes shifted over to meet Fury's, seeing that he had a sad look in his eyes. As much as she wanted to shoot Pierce, she wasn't sure she wanted to take the chance that her trigger finger would be faster than his, which was hovering dangerously close to the button the screen.

Slowly, she put her gun down on the desk - Fury lowering his as well. She looked over her shoulder to see Dawson giving her a worried look before his fingers went tapping at the keyboard. She knew him well enough to know he was already hacking into the phone towers in an effort to get control over Pierce's phone.

Pierce seemed to figure that out as well. He picked up her gun from the desk, crossing the room before he pointed it at Dawson. Nat moved to protect him, but stopped when Pierce held up his phone as a reminder. His attention turned back to Dawson, who had an annoyed expression on his face at the sight of a gun being trained on him.

"I suggest you step away from the computer, kid." Pierce threatened. Dawson's face contorted into one of disgust at the name. He kept typing without looking at the screen, instead letting out a scoff,

"Kid?" he repeated Pierce, "Who are you, my grandpa?" he sassed back, not in the mood for dealing with another old white guy who thought he was entitled to the world. Pierce huffed, almost sounding amused as he looked to Fury before looking back at Dawson.

"Pull up the Project Insight helicarrier files." he ordered, changing tactics. He had the kid at the computer, might as well use him for something useful, "I want access to the comms and the targeting maps."

"I hate to break it to ya, but Rogers is well on his way to making sure your little toys don't fire a single shot." he responded, making a face. Pierce's annoyance grew and he glanced around the room again, letting out another huff of a laugh,

"Well, kid, I have to say I'm on the fence about his chances." he sounded like he knew something they didn't. Dawson raised his eyebrows up, falling back onto his foot,

"Is that so?" he asked, "What makes you say that?" he asked. He didn't answer, instead gripping his gun a bit more and aiming it directly for Dawson's chest,

"Pull up the helicarriers, now." his tone made it very clear he was over whatever game Dawson had been playing, "Or else your friend gets a hole in her heart and you get to watch." he threatened. Dawson glanced over to Fury, who gave him a slight nod - telling him he should follow along for now.

With a deep, tired sigh, Dawson accessed the helicarriers and pulled up the targeting map. The main screen lit up red with all the people who were on the map. It went all over the world, people from different backgrounds, places and ages all on Hydra's kill-list because they might be a threat. Pierce came over to the terminal, shoving the gun into Dawson's side before opening the comm line to one of the helicarriers.

"Lieutenant, how much longer?" he asked.

"Sixty-five seconds to satellite link." the response came. Dawson shot a panicked look to Nat and Fury - they had less time than originally thought, "Targeting grid engaged. Lowering weapons array now." he swallowed the lump in his throat as he watched the massive screen click down the last remaining seconds they had.

But then, by some sheer stroke of luck, at the very last second, the targeting map updated. The only targets on the map were the three helicarriers in the sky. As the three fired at each other, he let out a breath he wasn't even aware he was holding. Rogers and Wilson had done it - they switched out the chips and let Maria take control. Thank God.

"What a waste." Pierce grumbled out, disappointed and annoyed by what was happening in the sky. He moved away from Dawson, letting the gun drop as he went to the windows to watch his failure.

"So, you still on the fence about Rogers' chances?" Nat asked, tone level, but clearly poking at Pierce's open wound.

"Time to go, councilwoman." he grabbed her elbow, reminding her that he still had her under his thumb. He could drop her if he wanted to or if she did anything stupid. With one last glance at the window, she turned and let him escort her away, "You're gonna fly me out of here." he directed.

They passed by Dawson, who silently tried to communicate with her. He didn't know what he wanted to tell her; there was too much to say, but he made eye contact with her and tried to say it all. She gave him a slight smile, seeming to understand and then glanced down to her hands. He followed her eyes and saw the glint of one of his spider bites peeking out. Clever girl.

"You know, there was a time I would've taken a bullet for you." Fury spoke, still facing the window as he did. Pierce paused, grip loosening on Nat for a moment as he looked over to Fury,

"You already did. You will again, when it's useful." he said, ignoring how Nat pushed the button of the spider bite, sending electric jolts through her body. She collapsed onto the ground, having shocked her system so intensely that it knocked her unconscious.

Caught off guard, Pierce fumbled with his phone, which gave Fury enough time to grab a gun from a dead STRIKE team member and pull it on him. Before Pierce could say anything, Fury fired two shots. The force of the blast knocking him through the glass where the computer images were projected. Dawson flinched at the noise, but his attention quickly shifted to where Nat was crumpled up on the ground.

He crossed the room, paying no mind to the glass, and dropped to his knees next to her. Fury hovered over them, watching as Dawson carefully pulled her onto his lap. She was breathing, barely, but breathing.

"Nat." he whispered, hoping it was loud enough for her to hear, "C'mon, Nat." he placed a hand on her shoulder, carefully shaking her. There was no response. His worry spiked and he moved to brush her hair away from her face, "Nat." he said, stressing her name with a sense of urgency. "Don't do this to me…" he warned, not really knowing where he was going with it, but he shook her again for good measure.

Her eyebrow arched up slightly before he eyes fluttered open. He let out a sigh of relief, hearing Fury let out a matching one. She grimaced from the after effects of the spider-bite, head rolling so that she could look up at him.

"Those really do sting." she muttered. He looked across the room, a smile splitting across his face, but he tried to groan - not wanting her to think he was relieved that she was okay.

"At least now you believe me." he couldn't help but point out with a huff of a laugh, looking back down at her. She smirked at him before grimacing again.

Helping her to her feet, they followed Fury out of the Triskelion. The helicarriers were still shooting at each other, the explosions echoing through the air. By the looks of it, the blasts were enough to send them careening off course, spinning out and shooting whatever was around. One was getting dangerously close to the Triskelion itself, which meant they needed to move before it knocked itself into the building and took them down. But, he decided, if anything, what was happening in the sky was a good thing; the helicarriers were exploding before they got the chance to hurt anyone who didn't deserve it.

Q could only watch as the helicarriers destroyed each other. Explosion after explosion appeared on the screens in front of her, rattling her to the core. She had heard what happened on the other side - Bucky was there, but it wasn't Bucky. She knew that much from the sounds of fighting, the gunshots, Steve's gasps of air as he tried to recover. It was only at the last second did he manage to switch out the chips so that the helicarriers were linked up to each other. And he was adamant that she send the directive for the helicarriers to fire at each other - even though he was still on the helicarrier.

"Find me his location." Q quickly instructed, her sense of urgency getting Maria's attention.

"Q…" she started, almost as if she was going to tell her that it was no use, but Q cut her off before she could,

"Find me. His location." she stressed, pausing between two words to make it clear that she wasn't asking. Maria stared at her for a long moment before nodding and turning back to the computer.

While Maria located Steve, Q turned her attention to the bigger screens in front of them. The ones displaying how their plan had worked - the helicarriers weren't executing the algorithm, but maybe at the cost of Steve's life. She didn't want to think like that just yet though.

"Anything?" she asked, hoping that maybe he managed to get off the helicarrier before the firing started. He could survive this; he had survived much worse.

"Still searching." Maria responded, glancing over to Q, "He might still be on the helicarrier. Something might've happened to knock out his locator or -" she cut her off with a slight groan. She pressed her hand onto the desk and leaned her weight onto them, "Q, I'm sorry…" Maria trailed off, tone sympathetic.

"There's a tracker on his shield, right?" she asked, ignoring the apology. Maria nodded, "Okay, then, where was the last location?" she continued with her follow-up question. Maria took in a breath and looked back at the computer screens,

"Over the Potomac." she responded, "But Q, he could be anywhere." she repeated herself, "And with the helicarriers coming down, it's not safe." she advised. Q nodded, lifting her head up to see the pulsating dot that represented Steve.

"I have to go find him." she said matter of factly, reaching for one of Maria's guns as she talked, "And you can try to stop me all you want, but I'm going, okay? I love him and I can't just leave him out there. It -" she stopped suddenly, realizing what she had said. She said she loved him. Loved him. She had said it. Out loud. Her eyes widened and she looked at Maria, who was trying not to smile. She looked up at Q from her chair and raised her eyebrows up, waiting for Q to say something.

For as many ex-something's she had in her life (only one other real boyfriend), she never really loved any of them. She may have convinced herself she loved her asshole high school sweetheart, but nothing compared to what she was feeling whenever her thoughts turned to Steve. Maybe it was just because of what was happening up in the sky - he was on an exploding helicarrier for Christ's sake. No, she decided, it wasn't some end of the world emotional thing - she loved him, helicarrier or not. But she couldn't dwell on her realization. She had to go find Steve, make sure he was okay - maybe then she could tell him that she loved him.

Taking in a breath, she continued with her original thought,

"It's my job." she stated, once again using her job description as a scapegoat even though it wasn't totally true. But she stuck by it, raising her eyebrows up as if to challenge Maria to say anything else. She didn't. Q holstered her gun and started to cross the room for the door. Maria tried to say something to stop her, but was cut off by someone trying to contact her through the comm. She took that to her advantage and quickly moved out of the control room.

Taking the stairs down to the ground floor, she made her way outside, only to see the wreckage of the helicarriers. Two of them had crashed wherever they wanted, pieces breaking off into the Potomac or even against the causeway leading into the Triskelion. Smoke billowed up from various places, small fires beside them, it was almost like a warzone. There was still one remaining helicarrier crashing into the Triskelion. It flipped up to the side, showing her the number and her heart dropped to her stomach; that was the one Steve was on.

Steve got to his feet with labored breath, pulling off his helmet as he did so. The helicarrier rocked as it came apart from the inside, but he kept his balance. He turned to face Bucky - or the man with Bucky's face. Ever since the helicarrier started to collapse on itself, he had been trying to get Bucky to remember him, just one final time. It wasn't working. Each time he tried, the man had screamed, yelled, punched at Steve as if to get him to shut up - as if he didn't want to believe what he was saying.

"I'm not gonna fight you." he finally decided, letting his shield drop from his hand. It fell through a hole in the helicarrier, disappearing into smoke and fire that surrounded them. He was tired, so fucking tired. He had fought so many people, so many times - he wasn't about the fight his best friend. "You're my friend." he reminded Bucky. They stood across from each other for a long, tense moment. Both breathing heavily from what happened on the helicarrier: how Steve tried so desperately to switch out the chips while Bucky did everything in his power to stop him. The physical wounds inflicted would heal, but he wasn't sure the emotional ones would.

Especially because of how Bucky looked at him - with such hatred, such disgust, in his eyes it nearly broke Steve's heart. What had Hydra done to him to make him this way? Could he have stopped it? They had turned his friend, his brother, against him and there was nothing he could do but try and remind him of life before.

Suddenly, the man let out a guttural war cry, charging at Steve and form tackling him to the ground. He landed with his back against a fallen bar, head dangling off the edge, but he was anchored by Bucky's legs around his waist and the tight hold of his uniform with his flesh hand. "You're my mission." he growled out, in a very un-Bucky-like way. He used his metal hand to punch Steve's face repeatedly.

With every punch that landed, a memory flashed across Steve's line of sight - almost all of them having to do with Q. Punch. The way her face scrunched up when she laughed. Punch. The pretty blue dress she wore when they visited Brooklyn. Punch. Her balancing a spoon on her nose at the diner. Punch. The butterfly pin in her hair on their first date-that-wasn't-a-date. Punch. Her terrible victory dance when she won Scrabble. Punch. The way she looked at him when she thought he wasn't paying attention - like he was the best thing that ever happened to her. Punch.

He should've told her he loved her. He should've told her a thousand times. Over and over again, in different ways, languages, actions. But it was too late for that. Always too fucking late.

"You're my mission!" Bucky screamed out, almost like he was trying to convince himself. His vision was blurry, his face was throbbing in pain, but he could manage to say one last thing. It didn't matter about bringing back the Bucky he knew, or trying to save him this time; he was beaten, worn down, he didn't want to fight anymore. He just wanted Bucky to know how much he meant to him.

"Then finish it." he gasped out, pausing in an effort to get his breath back, "Cause I'm with you until the end of the line." he finished.

Maybe he was imagining things, but he could've sworn he saw something in Bucky's face shift. His eyes became wider, like he was panicking at the phrase. The metal fist was raised up high, but didn't move from it's position. His chest rose and fell rapidly as his eyes softened, just slightly, and the metal arm lowered out of the wind-up.

But before he could do anything else, a massive piece of the helicarrier broke off. It crashed against the beam that Steve was up against. He felt himself fall through the air while Bucky managed to hang on to the ledge with his metal arm.

As he plummeted down to the ground, he realized this was what it must've felt like for Bucky. Seventy years ago, he had watched as Bucky fell into the snowy canyon below and now here he was, falling into the Potomac while Bucky watched from above. He finally understood what it felt like to see his best friend survive while he fell to his death. And in a weird way, it gave him some sort of peace.

While the last helicarrier crashed into the Potomac, Q picked up her pace as she moved along the riverbank. She kept glancing in between the helicarrier and the riverbank ahead, hoping to catch sight of Steve in one place or the other. She pushed past some brush, only to stop suddenly at the sight in front of her.

The man from the bridge - the Winter Soldier, was walking up the bank. He was dragging Steve alongside him, who looked, well, he looked dead. Her eyes immediately shifted in between the two, not sure who to focus on; on one hand Steve was looking like a dead man, but on the other...it was the Winter Soldier. The man who shot her. The man who caused all that chaos on the causeway, who tried to kill Fury and Steve and everyone close to her. Steve's enemy, friend, brother - Bucky.

Having heard her, he paused and turned so that his eyes fell on her. He unceremoniously dropped Steve to the ground, who landed with a dull thud, but kept his eyes locked on her. She felt frozen in place. Her gun pressed up against her hip, reminding her that it was there. Feeling her fingers twitch, she forced herself not to act on the instinct to pull the gun. Who knew what he would do if she did - surely he would kill her.

They stared at each other for a long, tense moment, studying each other. Yes, clearly, the man standing in front of her was the same man from the causeway, but he looked different. Sadder. Tired. Unfocused. Water dripped from his hair, making him look like a drowned rat, and mixed with the blood that coursed from various wounds. Maybe some of it was also Steve's, she didn't know. Either way, he didn't look dangerous - he just looked like a man who had been through too much and it was finally taking its toll on him.

Then, his brow twitched, which made her fingers want to reach for the gun again. She pushed her instinct down, keeping her breath steady as if not to give herself away. His eyes had been fixated on her for the same amount of time hers were on him. Something had finally clicked. But he didn't say anything, even though his mouth opened slightly as his eyes rove around her body - taking in every inch of her. She stayed where she was, too frightened to move or even look away from him.

"What -" he started, voice just above a whisper before he stopped himself. She was startled by it. She wasn't expecting such a soft, but deep voice coming from him. It sounded...normal. His brow furrowed, like he was confused by her appearance, "Rebecca...why - why are you wearing my uniform?" he asked, voice still just a breath. She blinked at him, confused by the question and unsure how to answer it - or even if she should.

Though before she could make her decision, a loud siren cut through the air, startling both of them. He tore his gaze away from her and looked in the direction of the siren before looking down at Steve. He stared at him for a moment before his gaze shifted his surroundings, eyes simply skating over her without pause. Then, without another word, he turned and limped away into the forest surrounding the riverbank.

Once she was sure he was gone, she let out a breath of relief. He had let her go - on purpose or on accident she wasn't sure, but she wasn't going to question it. She stumbled over to where Steve was on the ground, falling to her knees next to him. The comm had only let her hear what was happening in the helicarrier, but the evidence proved it was so much worse. If anything, seeing him like this reminded her that he was still human. He bled when he was shot, just like the rest of them. But she noticed that his chest rose and fell slowly, the only indicator that he was alive. Thank God.

Taking his hand in hers, she used her other hand to click on her comm, "I have Steve." she relayed into her earpiece.

After she confirmed her location, she sat back on her butt and looked across the Potomac. Pieces of the helicarrier were still falling. Sirens rang loud through the air as emergency responders got closer. In an odd way, it was proof they had won. Took down Hydra once again - hopefully for the last time.

But Q couldn't help but look to where the Winter Soldier - Bucky, had disappeared to. His question echoed, drowning out the other noises happening around her. Her stomach twisted as she began to put two and two together - wondering if what she thought he meant by what he said was actually true.

Her gaze shifted down to where Steve lay unconscious beside her, face busted in and bleeding from various wounds. Her heart broke a bit at the sight of him; once again he had sacrificed so much to save the world again. She squeezed his hand gently, holding on to it like a lifeline. After a moment, he squeezed hers back lightly, but enough to let her know he was there. A relieved laugh escaped through her lips and she turned it into a sigh as she looked across the Potomac again.

Whatever Bucky had said to her was filed away in the back of her mind - something to think about once the smoke had cleared and the dust settled.


	47. the aftermath

A dull, throbbing pain echoed throughout his whole body. After a mission or an op, there was always pain or aches, but this type felt different. It was more...personal. There were certain points where the pulses of pain were stronger - near his abdomen or his leg. The places where he had been shot, where Bucky had shot him. Oh right. He grimaced at the memory before it shifted to what happened after: the fight, the fall...and then the smooth sounds of some sort of music, a blurry image of Sam sitting on his left, then his lame attempt at a mumbled joke before he slipped back under.

Shifting in the bed made him wince as another flash of pain jolted through him. He groaned in response, slowly becoming aware of his surroundings. Pain aside, there were sticky things pressed all around his body, making his skin tight and sensitive. There was a steady beeping noise coming from his left, overpowering the muffled voices of people who were in the room. One of them sounded like Q's voice - Q.

He forced himself to wake up more, wanting to see her, but one of his stupid eyes wouldn't cooperate - having been practically punched in by Bucky. Still, he pushed past the pain, knowing it wasn't the worst he had dealt with, because the last time he saw her, she was in the control room at the Triskelion. Wearing Bucky's uniform. And while she may have looked confident in their plan, he could tell under the surface, she was worried about him. He needed to see her both to prove that he was okay and see that she was okay. Plus, there were things he needed to tell her. One thing, actually. One very important thing.

It took a few painful blinks for everything to come into focus. He was in a hospital room, that much he could tell, but a quick scan of the side of the room showed that there was no sign of her. Just a door, a wall of windows that looked out to the hall, and random objects scattered around. Swallowing the lump of pain in his throat, he turned his head to the other side, only to see Dason sitting in the chair beside the bed. His attention was up, looking at something on the wall, but at the noise Steve made, his gaze shifted down to check on him.

When he realized his eyes were open, he pushed out of his chair and got to his feet. There was a sad smile on his face and Steve's stomach immediately sank while his brain came up with a plethora of different reason why he was looking at him like that.

"Where's Q?" he managed out before clearing his throat. The sad smile stayed on Dawson's face as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Cap, I'm sorry…" he trailed off, tone tender and soft. One he had never heard Dawson use before which worried him even more, "You've been asleep for another seventy years." he finished, giving him a tragic look, "Your friends, family…" he let it go again before taking in a breath, "We figured it would be easier for you to wake up to a familiar face, but this is just a projection. The man you knew is gone." he said solemnly. Steve didn't know what to do - his body was flooding with different emotions as a reaction: sadness, anger, confusion, guilt… it was like the first time he had woken up all over again.

"...What?" was all he could manage out. He couldn't believe what he had heard.

Another seventy years had passed. Another seventy years he had missed. Some would say that he was lucky, lucky to have survived longer than he ever should've. But he knew, deep down in his heart, that he was actually the unluckiest guy in the world. He had missed another lifetime, another chance at love, another...everything. He wasn't sure how he was going to be able to start over again.

Then a bubble of laughter burst from between Dawson's lips. He looked over to see there was a self-satisfied smirk plastered on his face. His arms dropped to his sides and he reached out to lightly shove Steve's shoulder.

"I'm just fucking with you, it's only been like three days." he laughed, clearly amused at his prank. He stared at his friend, unsure if he wanted to kill him for playing such a cruel joke on him or laugh in relief that it had only been three days, not seventy years. He went with the laugh, rolling his eyes as Dawson started to raise his bed up so he was in a sitting position.

"That wasn't funny." he breathed out with a side eye toward him. Dawson made a face and shrugged,

"It was a little funny." he disagreed, "Q told me not to but, really, the opportunity was just too good to pass up." he laughed again, stepping back to place his hands on his hips. Steve let out a light laugh, which turned into a cough before he settled back against the pillows.

"So three days, huh?" he asked, clearing his throat. Dawson flopped back down into the chair and let out a noise of confirmation.

"You haven't missed much though." he assured him, "Just clean-up, people recovering, you know the internet and the news going apeshit over the SHIELD data dump but other than that...just usual post-battle things that you know happen afterwards." he raised his eyebrows up at Steve, who nodded; he did know what happened after these types of things.

After the Battle of New York, it had taken several months for the clean-up to be finished. The news was on a twenty-four hour cycle about what had happened in the city. There were debriefs and follow-ups and everything in between. There was barely any time to recover. But it seemed that now, he had all the time in the world to.

"Where's Q?" he asked, circling back to his original question. Again, Dawson's eyebrows rose before he glanced to the same spot he had been looking at when Steve first woke up. He followed his gaze to see that the hospital television was on, broadcasting a Congress session.

"Over the past few days, we've all had to appear in front of them." he explained with a sigh, "Talk about what happened that day, our time with SHIELD and all the shit that happened before. You know, the stuff that was in our files, which we dumped out into the public." he paused before gesturing to the screen, "She's up today." he glanced over to Steve, who was listening, even though his eyes were fixated on the screen.

The camera switched to show Q's face and his heart both dropped and started to flutter at the sight of her. While she looked as professional as ever, there were clear cracks in the mask that proved she was not as put together as she usually was. Her hair was pulled back in the same half-up, half-down 'do that he had seen the first time they had met, but there were dark red circles under her eyes. They paired nicely with the deep bluish-purplish bruise and a white butterfly bandage under one of her eyes. She was dressed in another pantsuit, complete with a pressed button up shirt and matching blazer. Though, under the blazer, he could see a white cast peeking out on her wrist. To those watching at home, the warm, professional smile was genuine. But he knew it was a lie; she was just putting it on in hopes of coming off as more likable.

"I can turn it off, if you want." Dawson reminded him he was there. Still, his eyes never left the screen. Instead, he shook his head,

"No, I want to watch." he insisted, realizing it was the only way he could support her. He should've been there with her, right by her side. Not stuck in a hospital bed, watching Congress question her in an attempt to prove she had done something wrong when all she had done was help him.

"Ms. Proctor, you seemed to have spent quite a lot of time with Captain Rogers." one of the congressmen started his question with a statement. Q waited patiently for him to continue, keeping her face neutral in the process. This wasn't her first time in court, she knew how this worked. They wanted her to react early or start defending herself before the question finished, giving them a chance to use that as an example as to why they should be allowed to do what they wanted to. Before, she had fallen into the traps set - she was mouthy and stupid and let her temper control too much of her, which was how she landed in jail in the first place. But now, she was smarter, knew better, and really just wanted to get through the day.

Court was tiring, but especially a court full of Congress members. They had been at it for hours, all of them asking the questions they wanted to know and Q providing the answers. Her name, her job title, what she did at SHIELD, what happened the day the helicarriers fell...so on and so forth. Not to mention there was a large amount of press in the room as well, all documenting her every move, every word, every look. She hated it. It was bad enough she was back in a courtroom, she didn't need it to be broadcasted around the United States.

The last time she was in a courtroom, it had been much smaller. And with only one judge, not several different ones. It was straightforward and to the point: she had something wrong and now she needed to make up for it. But this time, she had done the right thing, so why were they trying to punish her for it?

"Why do you believe he spearheaded this mission to take down our intelligence apparatus?" the congressman finally asked his question. Q wanted to laugh; it was such a stupid question. But the serious look on his face told her he was serious.

"First off, he wasn't alone in this mission." she clarified, "This was a team effort, led by Captain Rogers, yes, but we were all willing to follow him." she paused, "Captain Rogers has always done the right thing," she started to answer the actual question, "the morally right thing." she clarified before continuing, "Taking down SHIELD was the morally right thing to do. They were compromised by Hydra and we hadn't stopped it, well, over twenty million people would be dead. Including us." she said seriously. The congressman eyed her before jotting down something on his notepad.

The questioning continued from there. Only few were sympathetic to all that she had been through. Most were just trying to find a weak spot or a way for them to trip her up. But all of them were very focused on doing their job: questioning her until they were satisfied. It seemed endless and was starting to become mentally tiring and almost painful. She had been through a lot in the past few days, but this was one of the hardest things she had to do. Defending herself and the actions she took in an effort to save the world - something she had never done before.

"Before this hearing," the last of the congress members started - she couldn't remember his name, but what did it matter? As soon as she answered his question, she would finally be free to go, "I read through the file SHIELD had on you. The one that was sent out as part as the data dump." he clarified. She swallowed the lump in her throat. She had been waiting all day for someone to bring up the data dump and what was in it - especially the files containing her name. Saved the best for last.

"SHIELD took you from the prison system and placed you in their recruitment program, despite what you did that put you in prison in the first place." he gestured to her, knowing full well that she understood what he was saying, "Now, tell me, Ms. Proctor, why shouldn't we put you back in the system? Now that SHIELD is no longer here to protect you." he added on as a final jab. She paused for a moment, wanting to gather her thoughts before answering. Leaning closer to the microphone, she rested her arms on top of the desk and let her eyes fall on the congressman,

"Senator, SHIELD gave me a second chance." she started, keeping her tone level, "I was a broken girl, who made some truly horrible mistakes. Mistakes that I have to live with forever. But if it wasn't for SHIELD, I wouldn't be who I am today. I was taught, trained, and believed in to be a better person - a better agent, someone who can actually contribute to society rather than try to tear it down." she paused for a moment, feeling her attitude flare. It had been a long day, she was tired and she was completely over the hearing, "You want to throw me back in prison? Go ahead. I can handle it." she pulled down the corners of her lips and shrugged, "But believe me when I tell you that you will be wasting a perfectly good asset." she finished seriously, keeping eye contact with him until he looked away first.

"I think we're finished here, Ms. Proctor." the main congressmen said after a moment of tense silence, "Thank you for your time and your cooperation." he gestured to her, giving her the cue to leave. She wasn't about the pass that up.

Getting out of her chair, she turned to face the hoards of press people. All of them were shoving microphones and cameras into her face while she tried to move through them to the doors. The questions they were shouting at her didn't even register in her mind. The only thing she wanted was to get out of the room, then out of the building.

So focused on getting out of the session and away from the press and Congress, she didn't even realize where she ended up until she had to catch her breath. Fresh air had been a welcome relief. She hadn't realized how stuffy the room had been. Then, she looked up to see she was standing in front of a bar. It was like it was a sign from God. He was telling her she needed a drink - or ten.

Thankfully, the bar was pretty empty. It was two o'clock on a Wednesday, but still. And the televisions were playing some sports game, which meant she could get away from the constant news cycle about what happened on the Potomac or her Congress hearing or the others' hearings were playing on a loop - like a bad highlight reel. She could relax, finally.

"What can I get you?" the bartender greeted her as she sat down. She hesitated for a moment before answering,

"An Angry Orchard and two - no, three shots of tequila." she answered, figuring the more shots the better. The bartender nodded before moving down to get her what she wanted.

Usually, she would've found her situation depressing - drinking alone in a dark bar in the middle of the afternoon. But after everything she had been through, she needed the time alone - and the alcohol. She had been under so much stress, even before the helicarriers fell, that she had to allow herself some time to get through it or else she might explode.

After finding Steve on the riverbank, she had stayed with him during the transfer to the hospital. He had been patched up and put back together while the doctors did the same for her. Her wrist was finally reset - the feeling was pure bliss, her face was cleaned up and her bullet wound was checked for infection. Everyone was on the mend.

She stayed at the hospital with him until it was time for her Congress hearing. Not even getting a chance to deal with or process what happened that day. Her entire focus was on Steve. And while she knew his super soldier healing was doing most of the work, he still had to recover emotionally from facing off with Bucky. That would be a whole thing to deal with too. But she wasn't quite sure she was ready to yet. She needed some time to deal with what happened too, work through it and come up with a plan before going back to Steve. A reset, almost.

With each shot, her body started to relax. She began to let go of what happened in the courtroom, what happened on the side of the riverbank...just letting it all go. The first round of shots turned into a second and then a third. She kept throwing them back until she couldn't feel anything at all. At one point, she decided her blazer was hindering her shot taking abilities. Or rather, the one side was. The cast was too thick and the blazer refused to let her move with that arm. So she tore the arm of the blazer off, cheering victoriously when her arm was free.

The shots were making her feel much better about herself and the situation she was in. Who cared if Congress threw her back in prison? Who cared if the whole world knew about what she had done? She was a good person now, she did the right thing, followed the right person - and would continue to until the world made it so she couldn't.

Her phone buzzed, rattling against the empty shot glasses around her. She picked up her head and looked down to see Dawson's name on the screen. Muttering to herself, she grabbed the phone and tried to hit the green button, but ended up flipping her phone over out of her other hand and onto the bar.

"Fuck." she mumbled before heaving a sigh and picking up her phone again. She closed one eye so she could properly see the screen of her phone. Swiping her finger across one of the many notifications, her phone instantly pulled up a call screen. Oh, she was calling someone.

"This is important! I have to take this call!" she called out to no one in particular. She managed to get off the stool and stumbled outside.

The sun was setting - when had the sun started to set?, when she stepped out onto the sidewalk. She leaned her side against the brick wall of the bar, pressing her phone against her ear as she waited for whoever to answer on the other line.

"Hey, finally!" Dawson answered and she grinned at the sound of his voice, "Where have you been? I've been trying to reach you ever since your session ended."

"Hey!" she talked over him, ignoring what he was saying, "Hi, you called me, but then I dropped my phone, but I'm calling you back now!" she explained brightly.

"Oh my God, are you drunk?" he asked, sounding annoyed. She stopped at his tone, smile dropping slightly at the question.

"No, what?" she shook her head then stopped because the motion was making her head spin, "No, I'm not - I had a few drinks after the hearing, but -" she stopped and took in a deep breath, trying to get back on track, "You called?" she asked, forcing herself to sound a little bothered by the fact that he called so he would take her seriously.

"Steve's awake." he answered her urgently, "He's been asking for you." Her heart skipped a beat; he had been asking for her. He wanted her to be there with him, he missed her.

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" she responded excitedly, hanging up before Dawson had a chance to say anything else.

It took her much longer to get back to the hospital than it should have. Blame it on her drunk tendencies to wander and get distracted easily. She found a pizza shop on the way, which she spend entirely too long at. And maybe she got a little lost too, but that was also not totally her fault. Still, the time it took for her to get back was long enough for things to start to settle. To start coming back. She no longer had the sweet taste of alcohol to help numb things. She was still buzzed, yes, but the mood had shifted.

A sadness had settled, wrapping itself around her like a blanket. She was left alone with her thoughts and they drifted back to the hearing. They could come to the decision that maybe she would be better in jail - since she never finished her sentence. That would mean giving up everything she had worked for.

Not like it mattered though, since everything she had worked for was taken away from her. Her job, her apartment, her life...all of it was because of SHIELD. Without SHIELD, without Steve, she wouldn't be anything special. Just a woman who helped take down the world's biggest intelligence and security organization. And for what? Because she blindly followed a man she loved. The last time she did that she ended up in prison. It seemed only right that it end the same way.

Questions fired off inside her head with no immediate answers in sight. What was she supposed to do now that she didn't have SHIELD anymore? Would she even have Steve anymore? Or would he realize she was just a fucked up woman who hide behind the curtain of SHIELD and leave her? Why had Bucky called her Rebecca on the riverbank? Where was he now? Would he come after Steve again? Or her?

Over the past few days, the moment on the riverbank came to mind whenever she drifted off into space while sitting in Steve's room. The way Bucky looked confused at the sight of her, the way his posture slackened a bit, and the way he spoke to her - mirroring his look, but also like they knew each other, were close to each other. But what he had called to her caught her attention much more than the way he looked, stood or sounded. Rebecca.

But, she shoved the memory down and away, like most times she did whenever it cropped up. She had convinced herself that it wasn't the right time to think about it. The date that was the right time to deconstruct what he meant kept changing: first after Steve was out of surgery, then once he was in the recovery wing, then once he woke up - now she decided it was once Steve was out of the hospital. Then she would think about it.

Wandering into the hospital, she made her way up to Steve's room. No one questioned her or stopped her, all of them knowing who she was. The guards outside his room let her in without a word and immediately at the sight of him, everything came crashing down around her. The helicarriers, the riverbank, what had happened in the days leading up to right then and there.

"Hey there." Steve greeted her with a warm smile, looking away from the television that was playing some sitcom that didn't matter, "Been waiting all day for you to show up." his tone was teasing, but she didn't take it as a joke. Because while she had been out all afternoon feeling sorry for herself and getting drunk, he had been waiting for her. Waiting for her in his current state, which was...well not good.

The skin around his eye was swollen and turning into a massive black and blue mark. There were smaller cuts around the skin - no doubt from the ridges of Bucky's metal fist catching against the skin. There were wires coming out from his body, her eyes following them down to where his knuckles were red and bruised, a large blood stained bandage was peeking out from the side of his hospital gown - a reminder of one of the many places he had been shot.

"Yeah, well, I got drunk." she admitted, throwing her arms up and then letting them come down with a hard slap against her sides, "I got drunk and then I got pizza on my way here and I didn't bring you any, okay?" she said, face twisting as tears threatened to fall.

"...Okay." he answered carefully, a half smile on his face even though his lip was split.

"No! It's not okay, Steven!" she cried out, stomping her foot, "I should've brought you a piece or - or a whole pie! You - you deserve that. You deserve pizza." she wiped her hand across her face before wincing because she hit her bruised eye. He let out a slight laugh,

"It's okay, Queenie, it's been a rough couple of days." he assured her, wanting to make sure she knew he wasn't angry or upset with her about not having pizza. She had shown up drunk, or at least buzzed, which he wasn't expecting. But she was clearly dealing with a lot of things - most of them because of him and he realized it was probably not the best choice to tease her.

"For you!" she cried out, gesturing to him, "You - you are the hurt one, you almost died! All I did was just...I got drunk because I didn't want to deal with anything anymore." she sniffled, "I didn't want to think about what happened on the helicarrier or on the riverbank or what Congress is gonna do with me - or - God why am I crying?" she asked out, tipping her head back as if that would help the tears stop, "I shouldn't be crying!" she yelled out, "I'm sorry I'm crying." she looked back at him, lower lip quivering, "I shouldn't be feeling sorry for myself right now. I need to be here to support you and talk to you because I love you and you are dealing with something no one should ever have to deal with." she wasn't sure what she was talking about, but it made sense to her. She tried to straighten up her posture, look like she was pulling herself together when really she was falling apart.

"Hey, hey, hey," he said softly, shifting in his bed and gesturing to her, "Come here." he reached out to her. She shuffled over to the side of the bed, arms crossing over her chest, "It's okay." he assured her, giving her a sympathetic smile, "You don't always have to take care of me, you know."

"It's my job." she muttered out, sounding like a child. He raised his eyebrows a bit and then tilted his head to the side,

"Is it?" he asked, pausing a moment before continuing, "I feel like since SHIELD collapsed, you're free of your duties as my personal analyst." she snorted at the word (because anal), but then she frowned at him, twisting her hips to the side,

"Is that what you want?" she asked, arms still crossed over her chest, "Do you want me to leave?" Immediately, his brow furrowed and he shook his head a bit,

"No, of course not." he said, voice just a soft, but serious, "I want you to stick around, Q." she gave him a small smile, arms dropping to her sides. He quickly reached out to take her uninjured hand in his, gently running his thumb over her knuckles for a moment. "And you did just tell me you loved me." he pointed out, eyes flicking up to meet hers. Her eyes went wide at the realization and she moved her casted wrist over her mouth.

"No I didn't." she said, words muffled by her cast. He laughed a little, nodding as he did. Her face flushed a bright red and she let out a groan, tipping her head back again, "Oh my God, I did." she groaned, disappointed in herself, "Fuck." she cursed, lowering her head to it's normal position and looking to the side. She never really came up with a plan to tell him - didn't create any graphs or charts to predict the best time to...it just sort of came out in that moment.

"Jar." he raised his eyebrows up at her. She looked back at him with a glare and moved to shove him with her cast. He swayed backwards and winced at the pain before covering it up with a laugh. She chewed on her bottom lip, looking like she was about to start crying again. He quickly tried to stop it because - he hated to admit it, but she was a really ugly crier.

"Queenie, hey," he got her attention, reaching up to press his hand against the side of her face, "I love you too." he said, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Really?" she asked, voice a bit higher as she sniffled. He grinned at her, giving her a nod in response. Then, shifting over, he made enough room for her to climb up onto the bed with him. They maneuvered around the wires that were attached to him so not to cause any alarm with the nurses, but then she settled with her head on his chest. She listened to his heart beat steadily, matching her breathing up with his, and slowly the sadness she felt when she first stepped in the room faded away.

"Steve?" she asked, getting his attention, "You really love me?" she asked again, not because she didn't believe him (only a little), but because she wanted to make sure of what she had just heard. He gave her an amused grin and nodded, hand coming up to smooth down the back of her head. She lifted her head up and turned so she could face him, waiting for an answer.

"I do." he answered confidently before pausing for a moment, "Even if you didn't bring me pizza." he added teasingly. At the reminder, a new set of tears sprung and her lower lip began to tremble. She quickly buried her face into his shoulder so he wouldn't see her cry again. He laughed, rubbing her back with his hand, "It was a joke, Queenie."

"I know, but I'm very fragile right now." her voice was muffled, but still sounding a bit shaky, "I'm buzzed and you just told me you loved me - my emotions are all over the place, Steven!" he smiled to himself and continued to rub her back.

After a moment, she picked up her head and took in a deep breath, sniffling as she pulled herself together. He gave her a small smile, letting his thumb wipe away a lone tear before settling his palm softly against her cheek. She gave him a sad smile, leaning into the touch and letting her eyes close for a moment as she let out a slow, content breath. Then she reached up, wrapping her hand around his wrist and leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips, mindful of the split part and the small bruises around his jaw.

When she pulled away, she shifted back down so that she was laying against his chest. Their legs tangled together, arms around each other. She traced the patterns of his hospital gown, almost memorizing them, while he ran his hand down the back of her head. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, smiling as he did.

For once it felt like time was on his side.


	48. an offer

"So this is what it's like talking to a dead man." she said quietly while scanning the chip options in front of her, "A little anticlimactic, honestly."

"Well, next time we'll have to break out the Ouija board and some candles." came Fury's dry response on the other side of the aisle. Q tried not to smile to herself, reaching for a bag of popcorn.

The corner store lights hummed above them as she moved down the aisle to grab a bag of cheese curls. Fury followed on the other side, acting interested in whatever was over there. Luckily, it was late enough in the night that the store was pretty much empty - no one was paying attention to their spy tactics.

"How are you holding up?" he asked in an uncharacteristically way. She glanced over the top of the aisle, wanting to see if he was being genuine or just making conversation. But the look in his eye told her it was the former. Taking in a breath, she shook her head and looked back down at the chips in front of her.

"Fine, I guess." she shrugged, eyes darting to where her cast was wrapped around her wrist, peeking out from under her coat. Dawson's name stood out in big, aggressive letters. Nat's name was underneath in the prettiest script she had ever seen and the other side Steve had been using as an open canvas, drawing whatever he felt like whenever they were laying in bed together. She twisted her arm back and forth to create some friction between the cast and skin so she could relieve an itch.

Two weeks had passed since her Congress hearing. Surprisingly, they had decided not to arrest her - in fact, none of them had been arrested because of what happened on the Potomac. Something about the good outweighing the bad. She didn't question it. Was there such thing as a second second chance?

But just because they weren't arrested didn't mean they were totally free. She still had to answer every single question the CIA, FBI, DHS, NSA - all the acronyms, had about that day. They put shadows on them, watching their every move. Congress was still actively trying to prove that they did something wrong.

Still, everyone was moving on: Dawson had "retired" and was doing nothing but playing video games, Sam had gone back to work at the VA, the CIA was helping take down some of the secret Hydra supporters who had been exposed thanks to the data dump, those who worked for SHIELD but weren't actively involved in taking down the organization had moved on to other organizations - except for Q.

"Kinda hard to get a job when you took down and destroyed your old company." she sighed, "Everyone's afraid you're gonna do that to them too." she crossed over to the back of the store, where they kept the cold drinks. It wasn't like she hadn't been trying. Sharon had defected to the CIA and was trying to convince them to let Q into their program, but even being Peggy Carter's grand-niece had its limits. She tried to apply to companies outside of the world of secret intelligence, but with no college degree and a resume that was basically classified, her inbox was full of rejection letters.

Fury walked up next to her, their reflections staring back as they surveyed the drink options. Death suited him. He was dressed in all black, knit cap on his head matching the long jacket that went below his knees. He traded the eye patch for a pair of dark sunglasses, even though it was the middle of the night, and his arm was propped up by a sling he held close to his chest.

"No chance you'd be able to write me a reference letter from beyond the grave, huh?" she got a semi-chuckle out of him as he shook his head.

"And Rogers?" he asked, tone level. She was pretty sure he knew exactly where Steve was, but still, she'd humor him.

"Just left for New York, actually." she nodded to herself, "Something about the Avengers needing to find a scepter…" she trailed off, then shook her head, "I don't know." Although she did. She knew everything about why he went back to New York.

Since he had been released from the hospital, they had spent the last two weeks in a sort of honeymoon state. Dawson wasn't very happy about it; they were staying in his house after all. But they went on dates - real dates, they binged shows together, he cooked her dinner, she...did other things for him. They had a freedom they never really had before SHIELD fell. A freedom to be together, to be fully in love with each other. And she realized she never knew what love could actually be like until she was him.

Of course, every honeymoon had to end eventually. Theirs ended two nights before when Steve received a call asking him for his help with an Avengers matter. When he told her, she could see that he wasn't going to go, even though he really wanted to go help. She wasn't about to be the reason why he stayed. And besides, long-distance was still a rite of passage he needed to go through - or at least that's what she joked.

"Trouble in paradise?" Fury asked, glancing over to her with raised eyebrows. Her face heated up at the question - how did he know about her and Steve? Of course he knew, he knew everything. She rolled her eyes and let out a scoff.

"No, not at all." she shook her head again. It wasn't a lie, even though it sounded like one. Fury let out something that could be considered a laugh, sounding unconvinced.

"Then why aren't you there with him?" he asked as she opened one of the fridge doors to grab a six pack of beer. She shrugged, pulling the corners of her mouth down.

"Because..." she trailed off for a moment before continuing, "I've got a few job interviews lined up and it's not really a good time for me." she lied, not really having an actual answer. She didn't expect to have to explain her relationship troubles to her ex-supposed-to-be-dead boss.

"I thought you said no one would hire you." he called out her, arching an eyebrow as he caught her in her lie. She cursed under her breath and then sighed, letting him know he was right. He slipped one hand in his pocket, turning to walk past her as he did, "Listen, Proctor, I may know of someone who would." he went over to the freezer items and she gave him a raised eyebrow look, waiting for him to continue, "Stark Industries." he said matter of factly. Q took in a sharp breath and shook her head, ready to shoot him down, but he kept talking, "I sent Hill there to keep an eye on Stark and all those other guys." he opened the door to reach in for a tub of ice cream, "I'm sure she'd put in a good word for you." he glanced at her, "And hell, it probably helps that you're dating Captain America." he made a face and she rolled her eyes at that, rolling back on her heel.

"Thank you, sir, but I'm fine." she held up the hand that was holding the two bags of chips before turning away.

"You have an interview tomorrow morning." he told her, making it clear that it wasn't a suggestion. Of course, this was why he wanted to meet. Not because he was worried about her or wanted to check in, but because he had a job for her. Guess, in a weird way, she could consider that him caring about her. She took in a deep breath before nodding, falling back into how she was at SHIELD and not arguing with him. Giving him a tight smile, she turned away and walked up to the cash register to pay for her items.

She knew she should be grateful that Fury had gone out of his way to make sure she had a job after everything that happened. But intelligence work was one thing, working for a defense company was an entirely different thing. She had no desire to work for a company that basically helped produce the helicarriers that almost killed half a billion people.

Plus, she didn't know what position she was interviewing for, where it was happening or who she would be talking to. There was no way to plan for what was about to happen. What would she even do for a company like Stark Industries? Be a consumer behavior analyst? Were you happy with how your missile blew up that safe-house? Why or why not? Seemed ridiculous.

"I'm back!" she announced herself as she walked into Dawson's house. She went over to the kitchen area to put down the bags of snacks and the six pack before taking off her jacket.

After SHIELD collapsed, she had been staying with him instead of at her apartment. Hydra had ransacked it and destroyed basically everything in an effort to find Steve. And while she could still live there, she just didn't feel safe anymore. Dawson pretended to be annoyed by having her as a roommate - especially since Steve was also a permanent overnight guest for a couple weeks, but she knew he was happy she was there.

"I know!" he responded, referring to the security system he had set up as a safety measure in case any lone Hydra wolves decided to come after them, "Something came for you, it's on the counter." his voice was getting closer as he came down the stairs. She spotted the tan colored manila envelope and reached for it, going to open it as he came into the main area. "How many this time?" he asked, walking to where she was so he could reach across for the six pack.

"Uh, three from what I could see. Though no one followed me in the store so thank God for that." she relayed back. Nothing ever came from the shadows Congress had on them, but it still made for a bit of annoyance when it came to things like date night or trying to have a secret meeting with a man who was supposed to be dead.

"And he's…?"

"Alive." she shrugged, opening the envelope to pull out the documents inside, "Told me I have an interview for Stark Industries tomorrow morning." she glanced over to see him make a disgusted face, pairing it with an equally disgusted noise. "Not all of us have pockets of money hidden in various bank accounts." she pointed out, making a face at him. He rolled his eyes and opened one of the beers.

The only way Dawson was able to "retire" was because before SHIELD caught and recruited him, he managed to stash more than half of his winnings around the world in dummy accounts with no trace back to him. It was a smart move, Q kinda wished she thought of it too. Maybe then she wouldn't have to go work for Stark Industries.

Wandering away from her, he went over to his computer station, waking up the screens as he settled in front of them. She flipped through the documents that were in the envelope, seeing that it was all information for her Stark Industries interview. Thank God. Fury apparently knew that she would be stressed out over not having any information and gather it up for her. According to the papers, she needed to be at the DC office the next morning to interview for a position called a "Background Investigator" which meant nothing to her. She was certain she wasn't qualified, but she'd do it for Fury.

"Anything pop up while I was gone?" she moved on, putting the documents back into the envelope and shoving it under her arm. She reached for a beer, cracking it open as she walked over to where Dawson was sitting in front of his computer screens.

"You mean in the last hour?" he asked as if it were a stupid question, "Of course not." he scoffed, annoyed that she would even think that something new would come up in such a short amount of time. He paused for a moment, glancing over at her and walking back his attitude for a second to add, "But I'll keep you posted." he gave her an encouraging smile - or at least tried to. She appreciated the effort.

"Thanks." she gave him a small smile before taking a swig of her beer, "I'll be upstairs, prepping for whatever the hell tomorrow's gonna be." He gave her a thumbs up before returning his attention back to his screens. She was no longer a concern of his.

Heading up the stairs, she pushed open the door to the guest bedroom, heart sinking at the sight of the empty bed. She had gotten so used to Steve being in the room, reading or sketching, that she momentarily forgot that he was in New York. All of his things were packed up (not that he had that much to begin with) and sent with him to the city, making it look like he had never been there at all.

She glanced down at her cast, turning it over to admire the doodles he had drawn across the plaster. Flowers and hearts, a little crown for his "Queenie", a butterfly, an American Flag...and her fingers found their way over to the little slice of pizza, tracing the edges again and again. It was almost as if each little doodle represented something in their relationship, almost like little tattoos.

Almost as if he knew she was thinking about him, her phone started to ring with an incoming FaceTime from him. Setting her beer down on the nightstand, she answered, holding the phone up to her face so she could see the screen. The call connected, giving her the perfect view of...his sneakers.

"Wow, those sneakers are really cool, babe." she joked, a grin already spreading across her features. All it took was the sight of his sneakers to make her heart thrum. God, she was in deep.

"Oh, damnit." he cursed on the other side before letting out a deep sigh, "Dawson taught me how to do this before I left and I thought I had it figured out…" he trailed off and she waited, watching him try to figure out how to flip his camera around.

"Are those Reeboks?" she couldn't help but tease him, "Very age appropriate." she mused, not even hiding her tone.

"Shut up." he mumbled before the camera finally flipped around, showing her the bottom of his chin, "Ah! There we go!" he cheered, raising the phone up so they were face to face, "Got it."

"There's my old man." she grinned at him, "Proud of you." he returned her grin, looking genuinely happy to see her. She tossed the envelope she had under her arm onto the bed and climbed in, sitting so she was propped up by the head board.

"Hi." he greeted her again, "I miss you." he immediately continued, making her heart contract. He missed her.

"I miss you too." she responded. The word didn't even begin to cover how she felt without him, but it would do, "How was your first day back as an Avenger?" she asked, bringing up one of her knees to her chest so she could prop up her elbow - her arm was already tiring from holding the phone up to her face.

"Uh, not very exciting yet." he grinned at her, walking around some sort of room as he talked, "Just settled in - apparently we're all staying at the Avengers Tower so it's easier to get ahold of everyone."

"So you're bunking with Thor?" she raised her eyebrows, "Is he on top or bottom?" she tried to act like her question was innocent, even though there was some undertone to it. He rolled his eyes at her before laughing a little,

"We actually all have our own floors." he answered her, matching her raised eyebrow expression. She tilted her head to the side, pulling down the corners of her mouth.

"Well, that's fancy."

"It's too big for one person." he sighed out, looking around the space before looking back at her, "I wish you were here." she gave him a small smile and glanced to the envelope on her bed, debating whether or not she should tell him about her interview. If she told him, he know exactly what to say to make her feel less stressed about it. But she also knew he would start talking about them being together in New York. She didn't want to get his hopes up in case she didn't get the job.

"But I'm not an Avenger soooo…." she pointed out, trailing off with a shrug, "Don't think I'm allowed to live there." She was pretty sure she'd never be one either; she didn't fit the MO. He laughed a little, shaking his head as he sat down in a chair,

"Doesn't mean you can't visit." he reminded her. She gave him another smile, adjusting her grip on the phone as she responded,

"I will." she promised him, "I just don't want to get in the way of all your Avenger-y things." she waved her hand in the air and rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. It was weird to think of him working with the Avengers now - even though he was technically already one before they even met.

"You'd never be in the way." he said seriously. She locked eyes with him, realizing that he actually meant it. Sometimes the way he looked at her made her breath catch; no one had ever looked at her like that before.

The two of them talked for another hour or so about their days; it reminded her how they used to talk during their meetings, except it wasn't anymore. To anyone else, it would be a nothing more than a normal conversation, but it was a little abnormal for her. She didn't have to record anything or monitor his levels or analyze her graphs. She was allowed to be in the moment and not read too much into anything he said - even though that was hard since it had become second nature to her to do so.

"I should get going." she said with a glance to the clock. She still needed to figure out how to prep for her interview the next morning and try to get some sleep - which might be impossible because she had gotten so used to sleeping in Steve's arms.

"Yeah, yeah it's pretty late." he agreed, barely stifling a yawn. A small smile peeked out across her features at how cute he looked when he yawned. "I'll call you later, k?"

"I'll answer." she assured him with a grin. He smiled back at her and brought the phone a little closer to his face,

"I love you, Queenie." he told her without a hint of hesitation. Her heart fluttered at his words, as it did every time.

"I love you too." she responded. No matter how many times she had said it over the past two weeks, it always left her feeling giddy. Never before had she said that she loved someone and meant it in the same way she meant it with Steve.

The call finished up with sweet goodnights and light teasings as she watched him try to figure out how to end the call. Then she was staring back at her own reflection in the phone instead of Steve's face. Deflating a bit, she tossed her phone to the side and reached for the envelope, shifting her attention on interview prep so she didn't dwell on the sadness that came with missing him. That would just lead to a spiral of drinking the rest of the beers and passing out without any regard to her interview the next day.

Soon, the floor of the bedroom was covered with the papers in the envelope as well as pages of notebook paper with hastily written down thoughts on them. She researched Stark Industries, learned as much as she could about their public work throughout the years and tried to fit the skills she had from her past job into the list of skills needed to be a Background Investigator. Bullet points were made of topics to avoid (her involvement in taking down SHIELD, Steve, etc.) and strengths she had and should point out (organization, attention to detail, etc).

Using the SHIELD data dump to her advantage, she researched the division heads in the company: Pepper Potts, Happy Hogan, Dr. Armond, etc. She slipped back into SHIELD mode, doing the same job she did over the years. Analyzing their day to days and learning how to interact with them - even though she had never met any of them face to face before. She didn't know who she would be meeting with for her interview, so she didn't leave anyone out.

Crossing the last name off her list, she pushed her laptop off her lap with a heavy sigh. She took off her reading glasses and shoved a hand through her hair. The papers surrounded her and she began to gather them up, organizing them the way she wanted. She glanced back at her laptop, seeing the SHIELD database on the screen. Staring for a moment, she debated with herself before finally reaching for it again.

Quickly, as if she were afraid someone were to catch her, she typed in what she was looking for. Hundreds upon hundreds of search results came up, all of them marked with the indicator that it was actually a Hydra file masked as a SHIELD one. Dawson had done some coding after the dump on the database to have the system automatically mark files that were recorded by people who had been exposed as Hydra so the public would know which organization actually did what.

Over the past two weeks, she had gone through a few files before either getting upset and moving on to something else or being interrupted by Steve. But with no sign of him and needing another distraction since she finished her interview prep work, she decided to look through a few more files.

Each one seemed worse than the last, detailing the terrible, horrible things that had happened. Accidents that weren't actually accidents. Like how Howard and Maria Stark's car crash was planned and forced to happen - for a reason she still didn't know. Or the fucking assassination of a former president. Things Hydra made happened.

There were plenty of files on all the things they did, but she still couldn't find any on the man himself. Those files were buried deep, deep in the database. Under Hydra encryption that Dawson had been trying to crack for the past two weeks.

The only thing he had managed to get was only one file, which she memorized within the first week. It was full of the basic information. An intake form. Name, birthdate, social, etc. Nothing exciting. Nothing that could tell her anything the Veterans' Association could've in a simple email. But still, she was grateful for it - a lead was a lead.

Fingers hovering over the keyboard, she hesitated for a moment before typing in another name. All the other times, she always stopped herself from going down this path, not knowing what she would find. But she needed to be sure she hadn't misheard him on the riverbank - that there was actually something there. Maybe even something to help her. She cross referenced the name with the first, hoping there was some results. Only two came up.

Trying to ignore the disappointment, she clicked on the first one. A scanned report from 1945 filled the screen, one she quickly read through and picked out the main details. It was about how a letter was sent to her boarding school, alerting her of his death. Then Q's eyes landed on Steve's name next, surprise matching her curiosity. He went to visit her a month later, to tell her in person, and give her a pair of his dog tags as a reminder of his service. Steve's visit was not well received and he was advised never to contact her again.

She couldn't read any more of it, clicking out of the report and out of the database itself. A tear rolled down her cheek, which she quickly wiped away, not even realizing she had been crying. While some pieces were starting to fit together, she had never heard these stories before and was coming to the conclusion that she wasn't the only one in her family who liked to keep secrets.

The next morning, she woke up on the floor where she had apparently fallen asleep while trying to connect all the dots after reading what was in the report. Thankfully, she woke with more than enough time to shower and get ready so she was on time for her interview. She gathered up her notes and shoved them into her messenger bag before grabbing her things and heading down the stairs to leave.

"Look at that pantsuit." Dawson whistled out when she walked across the main area. He was still sitting in the same spot she had left him last night, but the beer cans and snack bags were empty around him. She paused, dramatically modeling it for him, "Very professional, Q." he smirked at her as she went to the kitchen. Her back was turned so he couldn't see her eye roll. She went into the cabinet to grab a bagel, popping it in the toaster and then turning back to look at him,

"I have that interview today." she reminded him with raised eyebrows.

"Oh, that's right, you're finally gonna start pitching in around here." he shook his head, "Fucking finally." he mumbled under his breath before turning back to his screens. She let out a slight laugh and looked back at the toaster to keep an eye on her bagel.

"Big day playing video games, Dawson?" she sang out, kinda teasing him. He threw up his middle finger over his shoulder as a response. Her bagel popped out of the toaster a minute later and she quickly spread cream cheese over the surface before wrapping it in a paper towel to take to-go. "Have fun! Be nice to the fourteen year olds!" she called out as she grabbed her jacket and left the house.

The DC office wasn't that far - a quick metro ride. And it's not like she was alone either, having spot two people on the train and one that followed her until she got to the building. They were all trying to look unassuming: dressed as different characters like business people or college students. They never interacted with each other or with her, just watched closely. A weird twist of irony considering she was usually the one doing the watching.

Once she was inside the building and through the security, the front desk directed her to the proper floor. She took the elevator up, using the fact that she didn't have any more of her shadows to her advantage. She made sure her suit was lying right, her hair wasn't too wild and she had all her talking points ready. For some reason, she was nervous - even though she didn't really want the job. But maybe because she did want to get the job, if only so that she could be closer to Steve.

"Q." A familiar voice greeted her as she stepped off the elevator. She looked up to see Maria Hill standing in front of her. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise and she took a second to compose herself.

"Maria, hi." she responded with a smile, "Sorry, I thought you were in New York." she followed Maria down the hall, through a pair of glass doors.

"Usually I am, yes, but today I came down here to talk to you." she glanced over her shoulder with a smile, "Please, sit." she gestured to one of the chairs in the room. Q was still trying to wrap her head around what exactly was going on, but she sat.

"Are you conducting the interview?" she asked, shifting in the seat and wondering if she should change her attitude to a little less casual and a little more professional.

"Interview?" her brows furrowed at the question.

"Fury - I met with him last night and he told me I had an interview for a position at Stark Industries…" Q reached into her bag to grab the envelope that had been dropped off, handing it over to Maria. She took a quick glance over the documents and smiled a bit,

"You aren't being interviewed, Q." she laughed a little, "This is just a formality. We've already created a position for you in New York." Q let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking her head,

"You guys gotta stop with all the half-truths." she advised, "I was up all night doing interview prep." Maria tried and failed to hide her smile, "Why?" Q continued with a simple, but loaded question. She thought she was passed all the secrets and half-truths and tests and games. She had proved herself when she helped take down SHIELD - or at least that's what she gathered. Why did they make her stress out like that? Why couldn't Fury just tell her about the position in the store? Maria took in a breath before answering,

"You know most of the intelligence community wants to drop any of us involved with what happened down a deep, dark hole…" she trailed off, giving her a knowing look.

"Yeah, the agents they have following us whenever we step outside, waiting for us to slip up has made that abundantly clear." she scoffed, sitting back in her seat. Maria nodded in agreement.

"So, Fury thought that it would be best if we protect you...by hiding you behind Stark's rather large team of lawyers." she explained, talking with her hands.

"And Stark's...okay with this?" she asked, uncertain as to why Stark would agree with this. He didn't know her and he certainly didn't seem like the man who would be okay with protecting a complete a stranger.

"You'll be staying at the Avengers' tower," Maria continued, not answering her question, "I hear that Steve's floor has a lot of empty space." she said with a knowing smile. Q tried not to get sidetracked, ignoring the flutter in her heart at the thought of living with him at the Tower.

"And what exactly will I be doing? Background Investigation?" she gestured to the papers Maria was holding. Maria gave her a small, amused smile, ducking her head down before making eye contact again.

"Well, on paper, you'll be...privatizing global security." she sighed, sounding as if she rehearsed it over and over, but didn't believe it. "But really you'll be working with me, mostly, and the other Avengers doing what you did at SHIELD. Working with us to learn more about threats. Trends and Patterns." she said as if as simple as one, two, three.

"So am I… an Avenger now?" she asked, leaning forward and raising her eyebrows. Maria laughed, looking off to the side for a moment before looking back at her.

"More like Avengers adjacent." she corrected, making a face and shrugging. Q laughed lightly, then sat back in her seat.

She'd have to think about the offer.


	49. big relationship steps

"Good morning, Agent Proctor." the smooth, butler-esque voice echoed around the bedroom, "Captain Rogers has returned from his morning run and is making breakfast in the kitchen." Q buried her face into her pillow and let out a groan.

"JARVIS, what did we say about titles?" her voice was muffled slightly, but she knew the artificially intelligent system could hear her.

"My apologies, Q." it corrected itself, sounding as apologetic as a program could. She sighed, rolling over in the empty bed and stretching out. Staring at the ceiling for a moment, she let herself wake up for a few more minutes.

A few weeks had passed since she moved into the Avengers' Tower with Steve to begin her work with the rest of the Avengers. While there were plenty of things she had to get adjusted to, living with Steve was the biggest challenge for her. She had never lived with someone she had been in a romantic relationship with before - she didn't count the two weeks they stayed at Dawson's together because that wasn't really living together. It was a big step for their relationship and one she was kind of nervous for. Her job she could plan for, living with someone presented challenges she couldn't always predict. Plus living together meant that they would see all sides of each other - even ones she still tried to keep tucked away.

But once she got adjusted, she found that living with Steve was almost a natural progression from their nightly sleepovers at Dawson's. It was actually kind of fun. They had slipped into routines that were surprisingly comfortable for how new they were. Mornings were spent sharing breakfast, afternoons consisted of her working with Maria and crossing paths with him every once in a while, and evenings were for pizza or takeout or date nights in the city. She could get used to it.

And her job was as easy as it ever was. There wasn't much she could do until the time called for it. Like the time Nat was in a tough spot in Sudan after going after some Hydra members and Q needed to prep a mission for the rest of the Avengers. It was pretty much exactly like the prep she did for SHIELD, only for a team of superheroes. Still, she liked her co-workers - Dawson had ended up getting the same offer as she did so it was nice having him around, and her boss wasn't as tough as she thought she'd be - Maria let her do her own thing until she was needed. All things considered, it wasn't a bad gig.

Finally getting out of bed, her bare feet padded across the room to the massive windows that opened on her request. The city spread out below her, already bustling despite how early it was. A light snow blew around in the wind as large pockets of people gathered on the sidewalks, attention turned to the streets. She could hear different kinds of music coming from below, mixing together in what should be a tragic tune, but actually kind of worked.

Suddenly, a large green balloon floated by the window, startling her for a moment before she realized what it was. A Hulk float. An amused smile spread across her lips as she watched the balloon bob in front of the window, twisting to the sides in the air as it wrestled with the wind. Down below, a crew of people moved it down the street, letting it join the rest of the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade that was happening.

Turning away from the window, she crossed the room to the door, stepping out into the hall and making her way to the kitchen. The smell of pancakes and sausage drifted down to her, getting stronger and stronger as she got closer. Instead of the various Christmas songs playing from the parade, a soulful song was coming from the speakers around the room. Steve was standing in front of the griddle on the island, flipping a pancake with one hand and sprinkling in a few chocolate chips into other pancakes with the other. He was freshly showered, dressed in a loose grey t-shirt and running pants, hair still a bit damp and spiked up in a way that made her smile. Somehow it made him look younger, like a frat bro straight from college.

Neither of them said anything as she moved behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and settling her chin on his shoulder. The smell of his bar soap mixed with the smell of the pancake mix, making her nuzzle her nose into his neck to inhale deeply. He reached into the bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips, holding it up to her mouth and feeding her the few he grabbed. She grinned at him while she chewed, leaning forward a bit so he could see her in his peripheral vision.

"Good morning." she greeted sweetly.

"Morning, Queenie." he responded, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips, "How'd you sleep?" she sighed and rested her chin back on his shoulder.

"Beautifully." she answered, hands going to rub at his stomach, "Guess what I saw this morning?" she changed the subject with a little grin. He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to continue, "A giant Hulk balloon." she rolled forward on her toes a bit, pressing into his backside to make her point. Steve laughed, finding the imagery funny, but not understanding what she meant,

"Where? Why?" he asked for the details she left out.

"Outside. It's the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade." she reminded him, even though he knew it was Thanksgiving. He turned in her arms, eyebrows raising in surprise. That's why it was so crowded during his run.

"They do that again?" he sounded like he couldn't believe it. She nodded, watching a grin spread across his face.

When he was a kid, the parade was the best part of Thanksgiving. Him and Bucky would make the trip to Manhattan with everyone else, only to watch it from the fire escape of a random deli. There was popcorn and warm mixed nuts, hot chocolate and hot apple cider. They picked out their favorite balloons and pretend they were in the marching bands. But once the war started, the parade ended. He never realized that they started it up again - having lived like a hermit for the two years after the Battle of New York.

"I bet you they even have a float for you…" she trailed off nonchalantly. His eyes quickly flicked to meet hers, widening at the thought of having a Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade float. No way.

He leaned forward to give her a quick kiss, mint of his toothpaste mixing with the chocolate from her chocolate chips. When he moved away, she quickly closed the space to give him another quick kiss, letting her lips linger on his for a second after before he pulled away to quickly finish up the last of the pancakes. God forbid he miss his own balloon in the parade.

When he was finished, he clicked off the griddle and slid out of her arms. His excitement was clear in the way he headed to the bedroom. She reached for a fresh pancake and placed a sausage link in the middle, folding it up like a taco before doing the same with another then following after him.

In the bedroom, he had taken over the spot she had been standing at a few minutes before. His hands were on his hips and he was staring at the event happening below. She went to stand next to him, his arm immediately snaking around her waist to pull her closer to him. They watched the parade together, both searching for a Captain America float. His thumb softly drew circles around her arm as she ate one of her pancake/sausage tacos.

Then, letting out an excited noise behind a mouth full of food, she bounced on her toes and pointed to where a massive shield was coming out to join the rest of the Avengers floats (a Hulk, Iron Man's mask, Thor's hammer, etc.) It was a massive replica of his shield that was currently resting against the couch in the living room. She looked over to him, seeing a little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. She grinned at his reaction, swaying into him to nudge him. He met her eyes and the smile broke out across his features. Laughing in disbelief, he shook his head, turning back to look at the shield float bounce down the street.

Q quickly moved away from him to jump over to the bed so she could grab her phone from the nightstand. Just as quickly as she was on the bed, she was off. She got back to her feet, pulling up the camera on her phone so she could snap a picture of Steve watching his shield float in the parade.

"That's really very cool." he commented with an amazed sigh. She tossed her phone back on the bed and shimmied into the space between him and the window, pressing her back against his chest. Not wanting to block his view, she slid down a bit so her bare feet were pressing up against the glass of the windows. His hands settled at her hips, one hand trailing down to the hem of her shorts. Almost instinctively, his fingers softly began to circle around the scar on her thigh from where she was shot. It had become a habit for him, his fingers always seeming to find it whenever they were lying together or in a position like they were. The scar was round and firm, skin bubbling up around it in a nasty purplish-red color that clashed with the tattoo it had ruined.

"I think that float's way more practical than the shield you have." she told him, knowing his thoughts were drifting back to the day on the causeway as they almost always did whenever he started to massage her scar. She tilted her head back to look up at him, meeting his raised eyebrow look.

"Is that so?" he asked with a slight grin. She nodded, biting on her bottom lip to try and keep her smile from peeking out. He laughed lightly before sighing again, attention returning to the parade.

Moving the hand that still held her remaining pancake/sausage taco, she offered it up to him. He dropped his head down so he could extend his neck and take a bite with a grin. She moved to give him a small kiss before he started chewing, then stepped up so she could turn to face him and hand him the rest of the breakfast taco.

Once her hands were free, she wrapped them around his neck. His free hand settled at her hip, other still feeding himself the creation she had come up with. He had become a lot more brave in trying whatever she put together out of the food he made. Sometimes it was good, sometimes it wasn't. This was decent.

"I'm thinking we finish up that delicious breakfast you made," she started, hand moving to play with his hair at the nape of his neck, "while watching the rest of the parade on tv. Then we nap on the couch for the rest of the day." she planned out their holiday, waggling her eyebrows as if to convince him to agree. He gave her a smile, beginning to let them slowly sway side to side to a silent song in his head.

"Just don't forget we have to go to your family's at four for dinner." he raised his eyebrows at her. At his reminder, she immediately deflated. A pout pushed out her bottom lip and she slowly sank to the ground as if the weight of his reminder was crushing her.

"I don't wanna go." she whined, falling back onto her butt. She continued her whining noise as she laid back fully, spreading her arms and legs out like she normally did in their bed once he left for his morning run.

"We said we would." he pointed out from where he was standing above her. She whined again, squeezing her eyes shut to avoid the semi-stern look he was giving her. "Queenie…" he said, almost warningly, "We have to go." his voice was serious, telling her she shouldn't argue. Didn't mean she wouldn't try.

"Do we?" her voice went up an octave at the end of her question, "I mean, I haven't gone to a Thanksgiving there in over ten years...why start now? I'm sure they won't miss me and they certainly won't miss you."

"We're going." he said matter-of-factly. She groaned, rolling over onto her chest. The side of her face was smushed up against the floor.

"You really know how to ruin a moment, Steven." she mumbled out. He scoffed and leaned down to pick her up from the floor. She dramatically hung in his arms like a rag doll, letting him flip her over and cradle her like the baby she was being.

"We can still eat pancakes on the couch until then." he promised her, ignoring her pout. She sighed dramatically before agreeing and letting him carry her out to the living room.

The only reason they were going to Q's parents' for Thanksgiving was because one night, Steve and her had run into Frankie. Out of all the people in the city, of course they just had to run into her brother on a random night he was in Manhattan. He was surprised to see them, which made sense because she never told her family she was moving back to the city. There was no reason for them to know.

Still, Frankie was excited to see them. Catching up led to a holiday discussion - Halloween had just passed, which then led to him asking what they were doing for Thanksgiving. Q was quick to make up an excuse, but Steve was faster, telling her brother that there were no plans of his knowledge. This was the perfect opening for Frankie inviting them to the siblings' parents' house for dinner. Steve agreed without even thinking.

For Steve, this was the big relationship step. He was going to be meeting her parents. He had never met someone's parents before - not including Bucky's. But from all the stories he had heard from Bucky, meeting your girl's parents was a big step into becoming serious in the relationship. And while he wanted a serious relationship with Q, he was a bit nervous to meet them. She had told him next to nothing about them - always passing the question or changing the subject whenever he asked about them.

Maybe she sensed that he was nervous or maybe because she was nervous herself, but once he was dressed for the dinner, he spotted three thick packets stacked on the kitchen island. Before he even got to the island through them, he could tell they were one of Q's signature recon packets. She must've worked on them while he was napping after breakfast.

Each cover had a name, age and job title typed out and there were markers sticking out from various pages that noted important sections she wanted him to pay the most attention to. He idly flipped through them, realizing there was one for her dad, one for her mom and one for her younger sister, but not one for Frankie. They had already met previously so it made sense she didn't include him.

"If you're forcing me to do this," her voice came from behind him, getting him to look over his shoulder at her, "it's only right that I prepare you as much as I can." she finished as she fixed an earring. She was wearing a pair of high waisted, tight black jeans with an off-white turtleneck sweater that seemed a little too short, just brushing the top of her pants. Her boots clicked against the flooring as she made her way over to him. The notes of her perfume wafted over and got to him before she did, but he still welcomed her into his arms.

"You're making it seem like I'm about to go into war." he laughed a little, trying to put on a brave face even though his stomach was in knots with nerves. She raised her eyebrows and made a face; he wasn't wrong.

While she knew he really wanted to meet her parents and the rest of her family, Proctor family Thanksgivings always had a way of ending on a dramatic note. Really any family get together did. Arguments always happened, fights always broke out, someone always ended up crying...it was a mess. Each family member played a role in the disastrous night: her father was the instigator, her mother pretended nothing was wrong, Frankie was the audience, Molly was the angel with a dark side, and Q always ended up the victim - even when she tried to fight back. And she wasn't quite sure she was ready for Steve to see her in that sort of setting. He might not like who she became.

Steve watched her absentmindedly fix his shirt collar, her thoughts clearly a thousand miles away. Reaching for her hands, he stopped her and her eyes flicked up to his,

"It's going to be fine, baby." he assured her with a matching smile. He hoped it came across as such, the knots in his stomach tightening because if she was nervous, then he was even more so. She stared at him for a moment before taking in a deep breath and nodding.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure it will be." she shook her head, waves of hair bouncing as she did. It had been several months since their last family get together. Maybe since she was bringing Steve, everyone would be on their best behavior, "But we're leaving as soon as dessert's over." she reminded him, her serious eyes meeting his. He nodded once,

"Yes, ma'am." he agreed. Still holding onto her hands, he intertwined their fingers together and pulled her a bit closer so he could kiss her. She immediately kissed him back - both of them using the kiss to calm their nerves. They had each other.

Somehow, Tony had learned that the two of them were heading into the suburbs for Thanksgiving and had set up a car service for them to use. It saved them the cab charge for the close to forty minute ride to the suburbs of Queens. So when JARVIS alerted them that the car was waiting outside the tower, both knew that despite their nerves, it was their cue that it was time to go.

During the ride, Steve carefully looked over all the packets Q had made for him. His nerves were slowly fading into excitement as he paid attention to the sections she had marked for each individual person. She was thorough and very detailed - almost as if this was a mission and her family were the marks. Looking at it as a mission felt a little weird to him, but also made him a bit more comfortable with the situation he was about to go into. A mission was familiar. Meeting his girlfriend's parents and siblings was not.

Next to him, Q was digging into the extra pie they had brought with them. She had two others on the floor in between them, but the one she was working her way through was hers. It was her stress pie, she claimed when Steve called her out on it. Her nerves were taking over her whole body, despite his hand on her knee, giving her reassuring squeezes every few minutes. Pie was the only way to help her.

Little Neck was a suburb in Queens, where her family moved to after Molly was born to give her a better chance at not turning out like a fuck-up like the other two. Steve wasn't sure what he was expecting when the car finally pulled into the neighborhood, but it wasn't what he saw. It was a very upper middle class neighborhood, very unlike where he had grown up in Brooklyn. He didn't realize where Q had actually come from both socially and economically - having took her mentioning she grew up in Brooklyn as being cut from the same cloth.

Thankfully, she had included a picture of the house in one of the packets so he wasn't that surprised when the car stopped in front of a navy blue and deep gold house with large slabs of concrete spread out to look like stepping stones that led to the front porch. While it wasn't big, it was long and wide. It looked both modern and classic at the same time with it's tall second story windows and pointed rooftops, but mixing with classic mixed stone detail on the bottom half. There were two cars in the driveway, even though there was a garage attached to the house itself in the same colors and design.

Steve's eyes shifted from where he was staring at the house to the back of her head. An empty pie tin sat on her lap, her finger picking at the edge. He took her messenger bag and put the packets inside for safekeeping. Then, reached down to get the other two pies, placing them on his lap.

"Ready?" he asked quietly. She took in a deep breath, but didn't answer right away. Letting it out, she nodded,

"As I'll ever be." she answered, sounding as nervous as he was. He moved out of the car and went around to open her door, helping her out and onto the sidewalk before shutting the door behind her. The car pulled away, leaving them there, standing in front of the house.

Giving her hand a little reassuring squeeze, he started to lead them to the front door. When they got closer, he saw that there were three different sets of identical doors, separated by the mixed stone and light fixtures. He figured the center set of doors was the entrance since they stood a little taller than the rest.

"Oh, shit." he heard Q mutter. He glanced over to see her toss her empty pie tin behind the bushes that outlined the front side of the house. She made a face, shrugging a bit, "We'll get it when we leave." she assured him with a pat on his arm. He laughed a little, shaking his head at her as they stepped onto the porch. There was a gnome statue set off to the side on the porch, holding a little lantern.

"Still time to bail if you want." she nudged him, trying to be convincing, "We could go home, eat those pies in our pjs and save ourselves the trouble tonight will surely bring." she made her eyes wider, shimmying her shoulders a bit in an effort to entice him with the offer. A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth at her referencing the Tower as home, but then he shook his head - not being swayed that easily.

"We're doing this." he pulled her a bit closer, making his point clear, "And I'll be right next to you the whole time." he assured her. She gave him a soft smile before leaning forward and giving him a quick kiss.

"Hopefully you'll still love me after this." she sighed out. He gave her another quick kiss before smiling,

"I'll love you no matter what." he assured her, sounding so sure of himself it made her stomach turn for some reason. She ignored it, returning the smile and kissing him once more for good luck.

The door opened thirty seconds after Q rang the bell, presenting them with a taller man who, after reading the packets, Steve figured had to be her dad. A picture didn't do him justice. Even with his age, he still had an impressive head of white hair and a thick mustache that matched. His sharp blue eyes reminded Steve of a pair he had seen years and years ago, only softened by the warm, welcoming smile on his face.

"Quincy!" his voice was booming as he greeted his eldest daughter. A tight smile appeared on her face at the greeting and Steve had to fight to hide his surprise at the use of her real name - he forgot that was her name.

"Hi, Dad." she managed out, voice already as tight as the smile on her face. If her father noticed, he didn't say anything, instead waving them inside and shutting the door behind them. They shrugged out of their coats, hanging them on the hooks available by the door. He took the pies from Steve's hands as Q continued, "Dad, this is Steve. Steve this is my dad, Harrison." she introduced the men like she was taught to do. Steve extended his hand to shake the other man's who laughed while they did.

"You think I need an introduction, honey? I know who this is!" he talked as if he was a football coach - even though he never was, excited and happy, always pumping the team up. Hopefully that was just for show. "It's an honor to meet you, sir." he smiled widely at Steve, who tried brush off his comment.

"Steve's fine, Mr. Proctor." he corrected him, dropping his hand to slip in his pocket, "And the honor's all mine. I'm glad to finally meet you. Q's talked a lot about you." he glanced to her at the same time her father did. His eyebrows raised in surprise and he let out a disbelieving laugh,

"Is that so? Well, that's certainly a surprise considering she blames us for most of her problems." his tone made it sound like a joke, but there was something underneath it that made it seem like he wasn't just poking fun at his daughter. Q pressed her lips together before rolling back on her heels for a moment then falling flat on her feet,

"Where's Mom?" she asked, changing the subject. It was way too early in the night to get into an argument. Her dad gave her a smile then gestured over his shoulder with his thumb into the house.

"The kitchen. Appetizers are out in the living room." he set out the house as he turned to Steve, "Can I get you a beer?" he asked, playing the host part. Steve gave him a small smile and nodded,

"A beer would be great." he answered, sounding grateful. The beer wouldn't affect him at all, but it would be nice to have something in his hands. Following her father into the house, he glanced around at the decor. There were pictures hanging all around, but all of them were missing Q. Almost like she had never existed.

"Oh, Quincy, I saw your Congress hearing." Harrison mentioned casually as if they were talking about the weather or sports. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw her tense up a bit, "When you were answering a few of those questions, you tended to pull your shoulders up." he demonstrated the motion, "Like you were turtling into yourself. It proved that you weren't confident in what you were saying." Right, he had forgotten that she learned how to read people from her father. Of course he would do the same to her. She licked her lips and nodded, eyes dropping to the floor to avoid eye contact.

"I think she did great." Steve defended her, getting her father's attention, "It's not easy to tell your side of the story when all those eyes are on you." he pointed out, glancing to her. She gave him a small, grateful smile. Her father nodded to himself, debating whether or not it would be worth it to get into an argument with him.

"That's true." he settled on, continuing into the kitchen. He headed for the cooler against the wall, leaving the two of them in the entrance.

At the island, there was an older woman, around the same age as her father, chopping up lettuce heads for a salad. She glanced up, eyes flicking over both faces before returning to her task. Her brown hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, her bangs framing her face nicely. If he had to guess, the woman was her mother - who looked like she couldn't care less at who was in her kitchen.

"Hi, Mom." Q spoke first, sounding tired. She had played this game before. Her mom was still pissed about the trouble she had gotten into and what had happened after.

"Quincy." the older woman responded, just simply acknowledging her, "Who's your friend?" Her eyes never moved from the vegetable she was chopping. Q rolled her eyes, arms crossing over her chest,

"This is my boyfriend, Steve." she corrected her at the same time she introduced Steve. His lips twitched up at the word she used, having never heard her say it out loud before - it was nice, "Steve, my mother, Angie." she gestured to the woman at the island, who finally set her knife down to give Steve a warm smile.

"It's nice to meet you, Steve. Help yourself to any of the appetizers. Dinner'll be ready shortly." she didn't seem as impressed by him as her father had. Fine by him. He appreciated it more when people treated him normally. Like a boyfriend brought home by the not-so prodigal daughter.

Before he could say anything or offer to help, her father stepped over to hand him a beer. Steve took it with a grateful smile. Q glanced in between the two of them, realizing her father hadn't gotten her one. Heaving a sigh, she went over to the cooler to get one for herself.

"Where are your bags?" her father asked out of the blue. Q made a face, not understanding the question, "You are staying the night, correct?"

"Uh, no." she shook her head, "No, we have to get back to the city tonight."

"Nonsense." her father scoffed, "Traffic's gonna be a bitch, and all the drunk idiots out there...it'll take you all night." he waved his beer at her, "You can just stay here for the night. We'll do leftover breakfast in the morning, then you can go on your way without us worrying."

"No, Dad, it's fine -" she tried to argue, but her father talked over her without a care in the world,

"Your mother already made up your room. You're staying." he said as if that were the end of the discussion. Steve glanced over to where she was standing by the cooler. Her jaw clicked as her eyes flicked from her father to him and then back again. Swallowing back her instinct to start something, she clenched her teeth together and grit out a short,

"Fine." Then cracked open her beer and exited the kitchen out another doorway. Steve was left with her parents and the tense cloud she had left in her wake. He took in a breath and slipped one hand into his pocket,

"Thank you for inviting us over." he managed out, still wanting to be polite and make a good impression.

"Of course." her mother answered, the tightness in her voice clear, "It is the holidays after all." she tried to give him a smile, but it wasn't as genuine as the first one. He nodded at her, giving her a quick smile before gesturing to where Q went off to,

"I should…" he trailed off, not knowing how to end his sentence and just figuring a quick exit was the best way to go.

He found her in the living room - she had traded in her beer for a plate of cheese and crackers. Sitting down next to her, he wrapped an arm around her and she immediately laid her head on his chest. Her legs were tucked under her, the plate balancing on her thighs and she reached for his beer. Without another word, she took it and quickly chugged it before giving it back.

"...Okay." he pulled the corners of his mouth down and set it next to her empty one as well.

"It's not like you were gonna get anything out of it." she mumbled, making his eyebrows shoot up.

"Wow, damn." he looked down at the top of her head, not knowing if he should laugh or be offended. She pulled her head up and met his eyes, grimacing a bit.

"Sorry, that was much meaner than I thought it would be." she apologized. He gave her a soft smile, hand skating down the back of her head, smoothing her hair down.

"I can take it." he assured her. She sighed dejectedly, picking at the cheese and cracker platter.

"Every time I come back, I just feel like I revert back to being this stupid fucking teenager. And it hasn't even been a whole fucking hour yet." she sounded miserable. He continued to smooth down her hair, leaning closer to press a kiss to the top of her head,

"Jar." he muttered out, making her roll her eyes before he continued, "And you're not a stupid fucking teenager. You're a beautiful, smart, accomplished woman." he complimented her. She looked up at him with a soft smile, laughing a little before snuggling back down against him.

After a moment, his other hand reached for a piece of cheese, but she quickly slapped his hand away.

"Okay, now you're just being an asshole." he laughed lightly, "Appetizers are for everyone." he reminded her. She sighed dramatically but then put a piece of cheese with a cracker and fed it to him. "Thank you, baby." he said through a mouthful of cheese and cracker. She pushed her lips out for a kiss, which he quickly gave her before finishing his bite.

"Ugh, you are here." A new voice got their attention, both looking over to see her younger sister standing across the room having come up from the basement. The pre-teen was dressed in a pale pink sweater and skinny jeans, her brown hair falling down in soft ringlet curls and pulled back in a half-up, half-down do he had seen plenty of times on Q.

"Molly, hey." Q quickly sat up from her position to greet her sister. He noticed the warm smile and tone she used, unlike how she had interacted with her parents. Handing the plate of cheese and crackers over to Steve, she got up from the couch to cross over to where her sister was standing. Molly eyed her, unimpressed with her older sister.

"I thought you were gonna bail." she said, tone making it clear that it had happened before. She shook her head, hands slipping into her back pockets as she gave Molly a small smile,

"Never, no, I wanted to come so I could see you." she reached out to her sister, who immediately pulled back. Her eyes darted around to where Steve was still sitting on the couch.

"What's he doing here?" she asked, big eyes fixated on him. He got up from the couch, setting the plate down as Q looked over her shoulder at him.

"Oh, Steve's my...plus one - my boyfriend." she corrected herself with a lopsided, semi-proud grin as she looked back at Molly. That was the second time in less than an hour when she referred to him as her boyfriend and every time, it made his heart flutter. Molly looked unimpressed and unconvinced.

"You're dating Captain America?" she asked, eyebrows raising. She let out a little laugh and tilted her head to the side, waves falling to the side as she did.

"Uh, yeah...I guess so." she answered, glancing to where Steve had come to stand next to her. He nodded, giving her a grin,

"We're dating, yeah." he confirmed. Molly let out a scoff, not believing either of them.

"Whatever." she rolled her eyes before turning and walking into the kitchen. Steve pulled down the corners of his lips, looking over to Q as his hands settled on his hips.

"I don't think she believes you." he pointed out, making her laugh.

"No, she definitely does not." she agreed, "She probably thinks this is some sort of prank." she sighed, shoving a hand through her hair. Molly was always assumed the worst when it came to Q, which was understandable since most of her life she had been told stories about how terrible Q was. Steve wrapped an arm around her torso to give her a kiss on the cheek, assuring her that it was anything but a prank.

Frankie arrived right as dinner was being served. At the sight of someone familiar, Steve felt himself relax. He knew how to interact with Frankie, he was easy to please. They made casual conversation while setting out dishes and Q even heard a laugh or two from him. And once they all crowded around the table: Q sitting next to Steve, Molly across from her and Frankie next to her, with the parents at the ends of the table, the platters were passed around for people to fill up their plates. Q avoided anything that contained vegetables (except mashed potatoes - which was a carb, she explained).

Steve was surprised by how similar the meal felt to ones from his time. While him and his mother never had a lot of money to spend on the meal, they were always invited over to Bucky's where they were served a lot of the same dishes that were on the table in front of him. Candied sweet potatoes, spiced cranberry sauce, stuffing, green beans… It made him feel at home.

"So Molly," Steve changed the topic of conversation at one point, getting the spotlight off Q, "you're about to go into high school, right?" the preteen paused and looked at him like he was stupid,

"Yeah, in like two years." she answered, tone matching the look on her face. He nodded, cutting up some more of his turkey, "I'm trying to get into Midtown Science or Brooklyn Visions." she added as an afterthought.

"Those are big science based schools." Q explained to him with a small smile. He raised his eyebrows, looking back at Molly.

"You're into science?" he asked, getting a nod from her, "You know, I actually was friends with Howard Stark." he mentioned, trying to impress her. For some reason, he wanted her to like him, more so than Q's parents. Maybe because she was trying so hard to get Molly to like her too. Or maybe it was because of how unbothered she was acting encouraged him to prove he was cool. Her eyes went wide at the name drop before she quickly composed herself, almost like she remembered she was supposed to act like she didn't care.

"Huh, cool." she managed out. He shared a glance with Q, who had a knowing smile on her face. She could tell her sister's brain was going a mile a minute with all the questions she had, but God forbid she ask them and ruin the persona she had going.

"But the only way she's going to get into any of those schools is by actually going to class." her father pointed out with a grin. Molly rolled her eyes and sat back in her seat. Clearly they had had this conversation before, without the teasing lilt to it.

"Oh, she'll be fine." Q cut in, waving her fork in the air, "I never went to class either and I turned out fine." The younger sister scoffed, shooting a withering glare at her sister,

"You were in prison." she stated, "I'm not going to class because I already know the material and I'm bored, not to go smoke pot and rob a convenience store with my boyfriend." she snapped out. Q pressed her lips together and let her head drop down a bit, a little raw from the call out. Steve slid his hand under the table to rest on her knee, glancing at her before looking across the table at Molly,

"Still, both of you lasted longer than I ever did at school." he pointed out with a half smile. He had stopped going after his father died. They needed the money more than he needed to learn fractions. Molly eyed him for a moment before shrugging and sitting up in her seat to continue eating her food.

Dinner continued with other topics of conversation, but somehow Q always ended up getting the brunt of the side comments. And each time Steve tried to defend her, the grip on her wine glass got tighter to the point where he was afraid she was going to break it. But he wasn't about to let her parents walk all over her when she was trying her best to keep the peace by not engaging with it. She knew that this was an important thing for Steve, which was why she was just taking it and not getting into fights like she usually did. But fuck if it wasn't hard not to snap back.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, dinner was over. Q was voluntold to do the dishes - which Steve was eager to help with. The rest of the family got ready for dessert, leaving them alone in the kitchen. He rinsed the dishes before passing them over to her so she could put them in the dishwasher.

"If you want my parents to like you, you've got to stop coming to my defense." she said at one point, putting a few plates in the dishwasher. He looked at her, confused by what she meant. She met his gaze and gave him a small smile while continuing, "I appreciate it, but it's been like this for almost twenty-nine years. Nothing's going to change."

"I don't like how he talks to you." he shook his head, referring to her father, who did most of the side comments that were less like light teasings and more like verbal abuse.

"Neither do I. Which is why I never come back." she sighed. A burst of guilt flashed in his gut, quickly climbing to his heart as he realized what he done. He practically forced her back in a situation she had no desire to be in all because he wanted to take the next step and meet her parents.

"I'm sorry, Queenie. I didn't know…" he tried to apologize, but she waved him off.

"No, it's not your fault." she assured him, "I know you really wanted to meet them and I was hoping that it would be...different with you here." she sighed, giving him a small smile. He gave her a sad one, reaching out to move her hair behind her ear.

"For the record, I don't care about your parents liking me." he told her, realizing it was true. After what he had witnessed, he only wanted to protect her from them and if that meant keeping them far away from her, then he would do it, "But I can't promise I'll keep quiet."

"Yeah, I figured." she said with a sigh, "But trust me, it's not worth it."

"You're worth it." he responded back, looking her in that same way no one had ever looked at her before. Just like every other time, it made her breath catch, but at the same time the twisting in her stomach from earlier came back. She pushed it down with a smile, ducking her head down to finish loading the dishes into the dishwasher.

Dessert was mildly better than dinner - if only because it was all food Q enjoyed. It then shifted into Irish coffees (or hot chocolates for Q) and game night in the living room. This was Steve and Q's comeback moment; both were extremely competitive and neither wanted any of the family members to win, which made for intense rounds after rounds. She could tell her parents were surprised to see her so involved since all the years before she had been so apathetic when it came to game night. If anything, it proved she had been letting them win for however many years, much to their annoyance.

Winning game night had dramatically shifted Q's mood. Steve noticed she was on quite the winner's high - even kissing him right in front of everyone. She didn't care at all about her parents or what they thought about her. He was kind of proud of her. And of course he kissed her back for a moment before being a good sport and shaking hands with her family.

When it came time to turn in for the night, they were instructed that Steve was to take the couch while Q would stay in her new/old room. While she hadn't grown up in the house they were currently in, her mother had decorated the room with all of her old posters and pictures she had in her childhood bedroom.

"God this is like some weird shrine to me." she muttered out as she walked into the bedroom.

"Now you know how I feel." he grinned at her, making her roll her eyes. She crossed her arms over her chest, glancing around before heaving a sigh,

"At least it's just a room and not an entire exhibit." she pointed out, making him laugh. He stepped over to where she was standing and she glanced at him with a sigh, "This is me." she gestured around her room, "Ages thirteen to eighteen."

"I love her." he grinned again, looking around as she just did before settling his gaze back on her. She felt herself blush and tried not to smile, arms crossing over her chest once again as he stepped closer to pull her flush against his chest and gave her a loving kiss. She returned the kiss, hands moving to press against the sides of his face to deepen the kiss for a moment.

Pulling away with a soft smile, she gave him one last peck before turning and moving to her dresser to find some pjs. He moved over to her desk, seeing there were shoeboxes filled with CDs.

"I don't even know these bands." Steve mumbled out as he looked at a few of them.

"Trust me, you don't want to." she shook her head, a little embarrassed by her old interests. He continued to flip through her CD collection, noticing the different titles she had given the ones she clearly made.

Where the rest of the house had a lack of pictures including Q, her bedroom had plenty of them. He let his eyes travel over them, taking in a Q he had never seen before: the nose ring, the purple streak in her hair, always holding a cigarette or a beer. Some were hanging from clotheslines, others were tacked up on corkboard with different ribbons for things she competed in before high school, and there were a couple in frames around the room. In multiple pictures there was the same older woman he had seen before in one of the photos in her album she had in her apartment.

"Who is this?" he asked, picking up a frame and showing it to her. In the photo, she was dressed in a matching plaid shirt and short set with white sneakers that looked too big for her. The older woman was holding her hand and both were smiling the same way at the camera.

"Uh, my grandma Becks." she answered, throat tightening a bit, "Yeah, she, uh, passed away a few months ago." she added, ducking her head down. Steve looked back at the picture, feeling his heart contract a bit.

"I'm sorry, Queenie." he gave her a sad smile. She returned it and shrugged.

"It's okay." he placed the picture down reverently then turned to face her again,

"Were you close?" he asked, she nodded, sitting down on the bed. He sat down next to her, taking her hand in his.

"Yeah...she was the only one who didn't care about all the stupid shit I did. Still loved me despite it, you know?" she paused and took in a breath before quickly wiping under her eyes, "Shit." she laughed sadly, "I'm sorry..."

"Don't be." he pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to the side of her head, "It's okay to miss her." God knew he missed enough people. She gave him a watery smile before nodding and then laying her head down on his shoulder.

"Well, I am sorry. Not for crying, but for how terrible my family is." she said matter-of-factly with raised eyebrows. "I know you were really looking forward to meeting them and I'm sorry that they're...not the best." she sighed disappointedly. He laughed a little, silently agreeing with her a bit but adding,

"But they're not the worst either." he pointed out, making her features scrunch up as she made a noise of uncertainty, "Look, no matter how hard they are to get along with...you still have them." he reminded her.

Lifting her head from his shoulder, she gave him a small smile and nodded. He was right; she still had her family. They might not be the best family in town, but she still had them. She knew how some nights he momentarily forgot that they were no longer around, that time had moved on while he was frozen - leaving him alone.

"Plus, you have me now too." he added with a grin, leaning over to kiss her cheek again. For some reason it hurt to hear him say that, but she wasn't sure why. Just like the stomach twisting thing.

Even though her parents wanted Steve to sleep on the couch, she had managed to convince him to stay in her bed with her. Of course she wanted to get a bit frisky, but Steve was adamant that they would actually be sleeping. A fun ruiner was what he was. But she agreed, just wanting to fall asleep in his arms. Or at least pretend to.

Waiting until Steve was fully asleep, she carefully detangled herself from him so she could quietly go down the stairs and into the basement. Earlier in the day, when she was putting together the packets, she had realized that visiting her parents' house could be an opportunity for her. After her grandmother passed, most of her things had been stored in their basement. It was a chance to find some answers or at least a little clarity to the secrets her grandmother had kept her entire life.

But Steve was a light sleeper, so he heard her getting out of bed. Figuring she was just going to the bathroom, he waited for her to come back. Then a few more minutes passed and she still hadn't come back, which worried him a bit.

Getting out of bed, he checked the bathroom first to find it empty before going down the stairs. The tv was on in the living room, but instead of Q, he found Frankie playing some sort of video game that looked familiar.

"Yo." Frankie lifted his chin at him, not surprised to see him coming from his sister's room.

"Hey, has Q wandered in here?" he asked. Frankie nodded and glanced at him,

"Yeah, man, she went down the basement." he answered with a head tilt toward the basement. Steve gave him a grateful smile and nodded, even though he was confused as to why she had gone down there.

"Thanks, man." he moved to where Frankie had gestured to, seeing the basement door was open. Carefully, he walked down the stairs and found Q sitting in the far back corner of the refurbished basement. One side looked like it was being turned into some sort of science lab, but the other side looked like storage. That's where Q was. She was sitting in front of a box, looking through it as if searching for something.

"Hey," he spoke softly, not wanting to scare her. But he did anyway, making her jump. She glanced over her shoulder, features relaxing at the sight of him. Letting out a sigh of relief, she got to her feet and gave him a small smile,

"You scared the shit out of me." she laughed a little, closing the space between them. He gave her an apologetic smile before looking over her shoulder at the box she was looking through.

"What are you doing down here?" he asked. She took in a breath and looked down at the pictures in her hand,

"I, uh, was thinking about our conversation about my grandma." she glanced up at him with a sad smile, "First Thanksgiving without her and all...I just wanted to feel a bit closer to her." she explained. It wasn't a full lie, but it wasn't a full truth either. Still, he seemed to buy it. He nodded and gave her a sympathetic smile,

"I get it." he assured her. She reached out to wrap her arms around him, burying her face into his neck.

"I'm glad you're here though." she mumbled. He squeezed her tightly for a moment, breathing in the smell of her before nodding,

"There's no place I'd rather be." he said seriously before kissing the top of her head. She pulled away to give him a soft smile before leaning forward to give him a real kiss.

"I'll be up soon." she promised, silently telling him this was something she wanted to do on her own. He understood, nodding and giving her another kiss before leaving her alone in the basement.

Once his footsteps crossed over to the main stairs, she went back to the box. Settling down in front of it, she resumed digging through it. She set the pictures to the side, getting deeper into the box and further back in her grandmother's life.

At the bottom of the box, there was a very old, small photo album. It was once white, having turned yellow with age. She carefully opened it, not wanting to break the binding. There were photos of a young Rebecca glued onto every page - some with friends, mostly with family. Especially with another girl and an older boy. His face looked familiar, but she wasn't a hundred percent sure it was the same person who she thought it was. The next photo was similar to the last, except everyone had aged up past puberty. It confirmed he was the same person she thought it was.

Shifting on the ground, she adjusted her position on the floor and lifted up the album a bit more as she did. When she did, something fell from the back of the album and hit the ground with a small ting noise. Her gaze dropped down to see that it was a pair of dog tags that had slipped out.

Reaching for the dog tags with one hand, she used her other hand to carefully move to the back of the album. Nestled in the back cover were small envelopes that had aged just as the photos had, and a patch of someone's uniform - a familiar navy blue color that she swore she'd seen before. She picked up one envelope, slipping her hand to gently pull the letter out. It cracked a bit as she unfolded it, as if stretching after sitting for a while.

The letter was made out to her grandmother, going on to call her sister or by a nickname she had never heard for her grandmother before. The handwriting was a condensed cursive, but readable - like it was written with someone with a steady hand. It detailed a week in the life of someone in the middle of World War II. There were mentions of the Howling Commandos and Steve's name cropped up in almost every sentence.

She put the pieces together rather quickly and knew what was coming by the time she got to the signature. But for some reason, she was still surprised when she saw the name Bucky scribbled out underneath the farewell.

Her finger traced the signature: starting with the B that was bigger than the rest of the letters and ending with the perfect, wide loop of the Y that underlined his entire name. The beating of her heart filled her ears as she stared at the letter, rereading it over and over and getting the same ending each time.

Every other letter she looked at had the same make-up: the mention of the Howling Commandos and Steve, callbacks to their childhood, plans for the future, and the signature. And each envelope it came in was made out to a...Rebecca Barnes.

Fingers going to rest softly against her lips, she stared off at a random spot on the wall, trying to process everything. Her grandmother's older brother was Bucky fucking Barnes. Howling Commando...Captain America's best friend...the Winter fucking Soldier.

How did she not know about this? And what the fuck was she supposed to do now?


	50. memorize

Keeping her grandmother's secret was beginning to stress Q out.

Since Thanksgiving, her thoughts never strayed from what she found in her parents' basement. She had taken what she had found: the album, letters and dog tags, along with a journal. And told herself she didn't need to worry about her parents finding out-slash-being angry because the items were already stuffed away in the back of the basement. They clearly didn't care enough.

When she returned to the Avengers Tower, she ended up nestling the items in the bottom of an antique box that she usually used for jewelry, then putting the box on the top shelf of her closet. Like some sort of spy or something. But every time she was in the bedroom, her eyes drifted to the closer where the box was hidden The discoveries that laid in the bottom of the box were consuming her and she didn't know what to do.

It was worse whenever Steve was in the room with her. She actively tried not to look at the closet, tried to pretend it was just a stupid box with some stupid earrings in it. Nothing more, nothing less. Even in general, she still just felt like she was just going through the motions of being a good girlfriend. Responding in ways she was supposed to, doing what she was supposed to, but her heart wasn't in it. She was just constantly thinking about what was in that box at the top of the closet.

God, it was like she was living her own personal version of  _The Tell-Tale Heart_ ; she was the narrator, desperately trying to keep a secret while he was the officer, unsuspecting and just doing his job - but all the while making her more and more nervous that her secret was going to slip out. It was only a matter of time before she ripped up the floorboards and exposed the body.

Whenever she had a moment alone, she found herself looking through the album, reading and re-reading every letter and trying to do basic research on her grandmother. She only ever knew her as  _Rebecca Proctor_. A young woman who went to off to school because that's where everyone was sending their daughters during the war. It was where she developed her skills as an artist and ended up getting a degree in art history. After the war was over, she returned back to the city and a few weeks later, met her husband (Q's grandfather) in a bar.

That was when she claimed her life started. Never ever mentioning a life before that - her family, her siblings, her friends. And certainly  _never_  mentioning how her older brother served in World War II as a Howling Commando, ultimately giving his life for his best friend: Captain America.

One of the biggest questions Q had was if her father knew about her grandmother's previous life. She assumed he had to - there was no way her grandmother  _wouldn't_  have told her father about her family or her older brother being a war hero...right? But she didn't remember it  _ever_  being mentioned, even when she was a kid doing school projects like a family tree. Her mother's side always ended up being more detailed than her father's side.

Then Q found the journal. Another thing that was buried in the bottom of the box under a sweater she had only seen in pictures the album provided. It was just as old as the album; the pages yellowing, the ink fading and a few of the pages sticking together. While she hadn't gotten the chance to read it while in the basement, she snuck it back with her to the Tower and hid it with the rest of the items. Unlike the letters and album, she hadn't gotten the chance to have enough time by herself to devote to read it - only being able to read quick little entries here and there in an effort to try and piece everything together.

Luck, careful planning, whatever you wanna call it, let her find herself alone on the floor for the entire day. Steve was on some sort of Avengers mission. She had done the brief, but the details weren't interesting enough to remember, especially with everything else going on in her head. All that mattered was that she was alone and no one was going to catch her reading her grandmother's journal. As if that was the most scandalous thing she could be caught doing.

Still, she made sure the door was locked and that JARVIS would alert her when Steve and the others were coming back so she would have enough time to hide the journal and get involved in another, more normal task. Then, she settled on the couch, journal in one hand and glass of vodka with lime in the other.

It started before school was even a flicker of an idea. Her handwriting was elegant and slanted, a close match to the handwriting in the letters, but definitely more girly. It detailed her life in the thirties as the youngest sister of a low middle-class white family living in Brooklyn. She described the neighborhood, the apartment they lived in, her bedroom that she shared...the day-to-day adventures, the ups and downs, and everything in between. It was weird to read about a whole other life Q had no idea about.

_The front door clattered opened, followed by a grunt, which was echoed by a groan of pain. She peered out from around the kitchen where she was helping her mother prep dinner. Stumbling inside was Bucky, holding Steve's skinny frame up by his armpits._

" _Oh, shit." she muttered out, quickly realizing what had happened. Bucky's shirt was ripped - which their mother was not going to be happy about, and his trousers had scuff marks in the knees. One of Steve's suspenders was snapped, his hair was sticking in every direction...was he missing a shoe? Clearly, the movie was a lot more interesting than the paper said it would be._

" _Language, Rebecca." her mother hummed out, only to be drowned out by Bucky's loud,_

" _FUCK!" as he let out whatever frustrations that had come from whatever happened at the movies._

" _Language, James." their mother repeated herself in the same sing-songy tone, but didn't look up from her cutting board. Out of habit, Rebecca quickly washed her hands before exiting the kitchen and heading into the main living area. She went into the cabinet that was under the bookcase and grabbed the first aid kit. Bucky helped Steve to one of the the chairs at the table - she sat across from him, placing the kit on the table._

" _What happened this time?" she asked, glancing up at Bucky. He sighed, hands going to rest atop his belt buckle._

" _Some assholes were being assholes." he summed up, "And this one decided to do something about it." he gestured to where Steve was sitting back in the chair, head lolling back as he looked at the ceiling. He let out a breath of a laugh, picking up his head to argue with Bucky._

" _I fuckin' had 'em this time, Buck." he rolled his head to look at her, "You shoulda seen me, Becca. I landed two fuckin' punches this time." he gave her a half smile, all he could manage with how his injured his face was. She tried not to smile at how proud of himself he sounded, "Woulda gotten more in if this asshole didn't step in." he gestured lamely to Bucky. He scoffed, rocking back on his heels and rolling his eyes._

" _Yeah, yeah, yeah I'm the asshole here." he reached out to shove Steve's head to the side, "Ya lucky I stepped in when I did else you'd be twisted up like a fuckin' pretzel, Stevie. Not even Becca'd be able to fix ya." he jutted his chin out to her. Steve breathed out a laugh, then started coughing for a moment - his asthma finally catching up to him._

_When his coughing subsided, he let out a sigh, slumping down in the chair. Bucky ruffled his hair before going into the kitchen to give his mother a kiss on the cheek and get a glass of water for his friend. Rebecca opened up her first aid kit - purchasing it after the third time both of them came home roughed up beyond band-aids, which was ages ago. Whenever the boys got into fights, they'd come back to the Barnes' apartment so Rebecca could clean Steve up before he went home. His mom already worried enough about him, there was no need for her to worry about him getting into fights._

_In the beginning, she used to ask why he kept getting into fights. He'd lose every time, no matter how many there were or how big the guys were. Wouldn't it be easier to just run away? He didn't think so. He hated bullies and he wasn't going to let them get away with anything. He'd rather it be him they focus on then whatever other poor soul was their victim. It was both her favorite and her least favorite thing about him._

_So she stopped asking, instead just patching him up and knowing in a few weeks, she'd be doing it all over again. Each of them had a role to play in these fights: Steve started them, Bucky ended them (even though he hated fighting), and Rebecca took care of them. It was how it always was and how it always would be._

_Getting to work, she gently started to clean his face. First to get rid of the blood so she could see where the cuts and blossoming bruises were, then to sterilize any of the open cuts so they wouldn't get infected. He winced at the sting, pulling back from her out of instinct. She paused, meeting his eyes and giving him a pointed look. They played this game countless times before - he always hated the stinging of the alcohol, but she had to use it or else he risked getting infected. And he already had so many other health problems. They communicated silently for a moment before he sighed and leaned forward again, letting her continue._

" _How many were there this time?" she murmured quietly as she set the bloody cloths to the side. He gave her a small smile and shrugged a little,_

" _Three." she nodded. That wasn't the most he had tried to go up against at one time, "But they were harassin' these girls - ladies." he corrected himself trying to be respectful, "Sayin' real shitty things to 'em and I...they can't fuckin' say things like that." he shook his head, "It's not right." she didn't want to laugh, but she couldn't help the amused smile that peeked out. Steve was one of the nicest guys she knew. He was smart and funny, considerate and wasn't afraid to stand up for what was right. But all that the girls saw was some sickly, skinny little guy who'd fall over if the wind blew the wrong way. All of those girls were stupid._

" _And what did the ladies do after you saved them oh so heroically?" she asked, a teasing tone beneath her question. Or at least she hoped it was teasing and didn't come off as jealous._

" _Well - ow," he grimaced as she rubbed some analgesic balm over one of his cuts. She shot him an apologetic smile before he continued, "Bucky asked them out. We're going dancing with them tomorrow night." her eyebrows rose - but she knew she shouldn't be surprised. Her brother was quite the ladies' man, who always tended to fall a little too fast._

" _Well, that's...something." she didn't know how to respond. Those double dates Bucky dragged him on never ended well. He had good intentions, viewing his friend in the same way she viewed him - as a catch, but the girls always seemed to be head over heels for Bucky instead. And at the end of the night, she'd be meeting Steve at the diner on Hamilton for milkshakes and coffee._

" _I don't think your battle scars will be healed by then though." she tried to joke past the awkward her previous, awkward response. He laughed, but shook his head._

" _I don't think I'm even gonna go." he sighed, twisting his mouth to the side. Her brows furrowed as she started to pack away her first aid kit. He understood her confusion and explained a bit more, "I know neither of 'em would want to dance with me…fuck it's probably a good thing, considerin' that I even know how to dance really." he realized, dropping his head down to rub at his palm with his thumb. Sometimes she really hated how he talked about himself. She shut her first aid kit and then offered her hand to him. He eyed it, looking from her hand to him, not understanding her expectant look._

" _Dance with me." she shook her hand in the space between them, "C'mon, Stevie." He took in a breath, but reached out to take her hand in his._

_Slowly, since he was still achy from the fight, they made their way over to the middle of the living room. The radio was already on, playing some new Harry James song that was the perfect tempo to dance to. His touch was light, she had to look down to make sure his hand was actually on her hip - it wasn't, hovering over the material of her skirt. She moved her hand over his and pushed it down so it was resting on her hip. Just because of that, his entire face turned red. She had to bite her bottom lip from laughing._

_It took them a minute to find the right steps, and she was leading most of the time, but it wasn't as scary as he thought it would be. Maybe because he was dancing with her. Everything was easier when they were together. She didn't treat him like the other girls did - hell the other girls didn't even give him the time of day. But she did. She paid attention to him, laughed at his jokes, was kind of an asshole at times...made him feel normal._

" _That's my foot, Stevie." she giggled, getting his attention. He looked down, seeing that he had in fact stepped on her foot for what felt like the umpteenth time._

" _Shit, sorry." he apologized quickly. A blush colored his cheeks as he looked back up at her, meeting her genuine smile. She shook her head, the soft, dark curls swaying as she did - except for the roll on the top, the one Bucky helped her with it every morning, getting it just right so it was a smooth, classic bump that helped her half-up, half-down do._

" _No blood, no foul." she forgave him with a grin before resetting them again. He was just getting the hang of it when Bucky came back, freshly showered and re-dressed._

" _What the fuck is going on here!?" he laughed, seeing the two of them dancing together, "Helpin' Stevie get ready for our double tomorrow night?" he directed his question to his sister._

" _Well, we can't have him embarrassing ya, can we?" she shot back, talking just as fast as her brother. As if she was afraid she'd run out of time. Her hands fell from Steve to settle at her hips, giving her older brother a pointed look. Bucky shook his head, waving a finger in agreement._

" _No, no we can not, Becca." he crossed the room, tossing the clothes he needed her to patch up onto the couch. He hip checked her out of the way, taking her place in front of Steve and shaking out his arms, "Which is why we need to teach him the proper way." he said, stressing the word 'proper' to insinuate that she had been showing him something incorrect. He gave her a pointed look before returning his attention to Steve, "C'mon, Stevie." he placed his friend's hands where he wanted them: one one his waist, another in his hand, before beginning to guide him in some over the top dance around the living room._

_Going to sit on the couch, she pulled Bucky's clothes onto her lap to examine while she watched what the two of them were doing. She laughed as Bucky dramatically dipped Steve before bringing him back up so Steve could spin him out. Neither one of them gave a shit, just trying to make the other laugh while Rebecca watched._

_The dance practice eventually turned into light roughhousing. Both of the boys were on the ground, grunting and trying to get the other pinned down or give in. She stepped over them to get to the sewing table, figuring she might as well get a head start on fixing his shirt for the next fight._

A ghost of a smile appeared across Q's features at the mentions of Steve. The idea of pre-serum Steve hanging out with her grandmother was hard to imagine, but the details in Rebecca's entry made it clear that she saw him as more than just a friend of her brother's. One who he always had to stand up for and one who she was always taking care of.

Flipping through the journal, she noticed more and more mentions of Steve. They were close, just as close as he was to Bucky at one time. Yet, he never mentioned her once. Well, he did, but it was in brief and he said he had no idea what happened to her. Which was a lie. Even before finding Rebecca's journal, she had seen the report that he had visited her after Bucky's death. According to the report, it did not go well and apparently, Rebecca felt the same.

_There was a quiet, tentative knock on her door - one that she normally wouldn't have heard if she had a record on. But she hadn't listened to music in what felt like ages. Moving from her desk, she crossed her dorm room and went to answer the door; surprised to see who was on the other side. It was Steve or Captain America or whatever the hell he went by these days._

_Or at least, it was a man with Steve's face. God, he looked so different. Taller, was the word Bucky had used to describe him. It didn't even begin to cover it. Obviously, he was taller - she actually had to look up at him, rather than down, but the muscles he had were rolling, only contained by the material of his Army uniform. If he were visiting her for any other reason, she'd reach out and touch them to see if they were real - she still had to restrain herself._

_Of course she had seen him since the serum injection. Just not in person. Always in the ads that ran before films she'd go see with friends, or in the papers that detailed whatever heroic act he had done in an effort to stop the Nazis. It was a strange feeling - to know someone who had become the face of freedom._

_But this man wasn't the same boy she knew while she was growing up. The one who was just a skinny kid, who'd trip over his own two feet simply by standing up straight. The one who'd get breathless just crossing the room to the kitchen. The one who'd come to her whenever he needed to be patched up - either from a fight or just have a hole in his shirt. spend his last few cents on a bag of dark chocolate when he knew she was having a bad day. No, this was the man who had gotten her brother killed. His supposed best friend, his brother._

" _What are you doing here, Stevie?" she asked in greeting, already having some sense as to why he was standing outside of her dorm room. He barely concealed his flinch at the nickname. The only other person who ever called him that went falling down into a snowy abyss a month ago._

" _I…" he trailed off, trying to remember his words. It had been so long since he had seen her last. She was still a girl when she was shipped up to school, but standing in front of him was a woman. And she had dyed her hair an icy blonde. He didn't like it. But it wasn't the right time to comment on it. He straightened up, trying exude some sort of confidence that he always tried to have when he wore any type of uniform, even though she saw right through him. He never used to need to try to pretend to be someone he wasn't around her though, "I came to see how you were doing." he finally got out the reason behind his surprise visit._

_The voice didn't match the body, but at least he still sounded the same. Tentative, but sure. Soft, but still strong. Like he knew what he wanted to say, just a little afraid of how it would be received. From what she remembered, most of the times he spoke up ended up with him bleeding. And led to her taking care of him. But she was done taking care of him._

" _I don't want to talk to you, Steve." she said, voice quiet, but hard. The last thing she needed was a reminder of what had happened. It was hard enough with the news, the radios, everyone talking about it. She didn't need to stare in the face of the man who had made it happen._

" _Please, Becca." his shoulders slumped a bit, reverting back to how he used to stand when they were younger. The Captain America facade was fading quickly, "I just want to explain. Apolo-"_

" _No. I don't care what you have to say." she cut him off with a shake of her head, "It's been hard enough as it is." she said, not meaning to sound as tired as she did, but it was true. The pitying look she had gotten from everyone she had ever come in contact with sliding over. She hated that look. And had hoped Steve would have enough sense to know better._

" _I'm sorry, Becca." his voice was lower, head dropping down to avoid her look, "It's all my fault." he mumbled. Her grip on the door frame tightened in response. She glanced around the hall, knowing he had been standing out there entirely too long - it was only a matter of time before someone noticed him. He need to leave, she needed him to leave._

_When she looked back at him, she met his eyes, which was a mistake; staring back at her were those puppy dog eyes she knew all too well. The ones who got her to do anything for him. No, not this time. It wasn't going to work this time._

" _You're right." she raised her eyebrows, finally saying what she had been holding on to for the past month. Her sadness had suddenly be replaced by anger, directed at the man standing in front of her, "It is your fault, Stevie." A look of hurt flashed across his face, but she didn't pause, "He wanted no part of this war. The only reason he ever signed up for the draft was to make sure you didn't get your ass killed."_

" _I know." he mumbled back, eyes on the floor._

" _And look what happened," she tilted her head to the side and squinted at him. She had no idea where this was all coming from - she'd never speak to Steve this way before, but times were different and things needed to be said, "He got himself killed trying to save your ass. Ironic, isn't it?" Steve didn't answer, not even knowing how to respond. What she said hung in the air between them for a long moment before settling on his shoulders where it would rest for a lifetime._

_With a shake of her head, she stepped back from the door. She had said her piece. There was nothing more for them to discuss. Still, he stepped forward, trying to close the space between them. His hand was outstretched while his eyes were clearly watering with tears as a reaction of what she said. Guilt blossomed in her stomach, suddenly feeling bad for saying such horrible things, but she pushed it down. She wasn't the one who killed her brother._

" _Goodbye, Steve." her voice held a tone of finality, tinged with a little sadness._

" _Becca, wait -" he stopped the door with his hand. Her eyes flicked to his, surprised at the action and the strength he was exerting behind it, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please just tell me how to fix this." he begged, sounding raw and broken. She knew their loss hurt him too. Bucky was his brother. He loved him - more than he ever loved her. But the man who lost someone was the same man who killed him._

" _You can't." she said seriously. He faltered, hand slipping against the door. The release made it much easier for her to shut the door on his face. She locked it - even though she knew Steve would never try to break in like that, before sliding down the door to the floor. She pulled her knees up to her chest and buried her face into them, letting herself cry until she swore she was out of tears._

_When she opened the door again, there was no sign of Steve, just an envelope in front of the door. Inside was a final letter that Bucky never got to send, along with a pair of his dog tags and a scrap of his uniform._

Now she understood why Rebecca never told her family about her brother. She blamed Steve for Bucky's death. Which directly correlated to the guilt Steve felt. It wasn't just his own self-induced guilt, but one that was put upon him by someone who, at one point, he trusted just as much as he trusted Bucky. No wonder it took so long for him to work through it.

There were no more mentions of Steve throughout the rest of the journal. She had a serious bout of depression over Bucky's death - especially becoming more crippling whenever they mentioned him in the papers or the radio as a hero. It was a painful reminder of who she had lost and how she had lost him. Her sadness turned to resolve, making a note (and underlining it to make a point) to not let the loss of Bucky take over her life.

From there, school finished up without much more drama. She graduated, moved back to the city to start her career and met her husband. And that's where the journal ended. Q knew the rest of the story. It was one she had heard countless times while she was growing up, the only one she had ever heard. Oh, how she wished she heard the others too.

Would anything have changed if she had though? Would she still have gone down the same path? Still become a SHIELD agent and meet Steve in the way that she did? Or was it fate? Was it fate for her to meet Steve no matter what? Having been destined to since her grandmother had too? History did tend to repeat itself.

There was no way for her to come up with these answers. They were just theoreticals, something for her to think about when lying awake in the middle of the night with her arms wrapped around Steve's waist while he slept. But they plagued her mind. She couldn't stop thinking about them, or the journal, or what she read in it.

Her perception of Steve hadn't really changed, but she was itching to hear his side of the story. Hear about his feelings toward Rebecca, if they were really that close or if the journal had been embellished. She wanted to hear about the day at the school, and why he never tried to reach out again. But the only way she could meant telling him what she found in her parents' basement. And she wasn't sure if that was a good idea or not. She didn't want to reopen any wounds that he had obviously worked through.

After her first read through of the journal, she found herself going back to it whenever she got a free moment alone. Searching for answers to questions she didn't even have yet, or trying to put a path together as to what to do next. She wanted to know more. About Rebecca, about Bucky, about everything in between. She wanted to have the right information so when she did, one day, tell Steve, there would be no hesitation.

And she realized the only way to get any answers would be to find Bucky. Wherever the hell he was.

"You want to do  _what!?"_ Dawson all about shouted around a mouthful of sandwich. Q rolled her eyes at his dramatic reaction. "Why in God's name would you want to find that fucker?" he continued, chewing as he talked.

"He's not a  _fucker_." she immediately defended who they were talking about. That wasn't fair of him to say. He scoffed, falling back in his seat with an annoyed groan.

"He tried to kill Nat!" he gestured to her with his sandwich, "And you!" he added on as an afterthought. She shook her head with a slight laugh, reaching for her beer.

They were at some random bar and grill in the city, no signs of either of their Avenger significant others in sight. Q had invited him for lunch, citing that it was for old times' sake. But really, she wanted to pitch him her idea of finding Bucky. She couldn't do it without his help - well she could, but it would take a lot longer if she did it alone.

"I need you to come with me." she voiced her thoughts. He gave her an unamused look, using a toothpick to pick out some lettuce in between his teeth.

"No, you don't." he shook his head. She leaned forward, reaching across to grab one of his fries. He fixed her with an annoyed look, but didn't stop her from taking more.

"I do." she argued back.

"You have your star-spangled man with a plan, now." he volleyed back, sounding a little hurt. She gave him a sympathetic smile, understanding that he felt replaced by Steve, even if that wasn't the case at all.

"No, no I can't drag him into this." she said after a moment with a shake of her head. She reached for her beer again, "If things go south…" she trailed off, not wanting to think about it. Instead she took a long sip of her beer before sighing and fixing him with a look, "I need  _you,_ Dawson." she finished matter-of-factly. He squinted at her, she matched his expression. They stared at each other for a moment before he sighed,

"Fine." he sat back in his seat, "...I'm assuming your boy doesn't know about this little trip?"

"No." she sighed, "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell your ex-assassin girlfriend either." Dawson pressed his lips together. He didn't love the idea of keeping such a secret from her - mostly because he didn't like keeping secrets from girlfriends, but especially because when she was so good at figuring out when someone was lying and he knew what she did to them when she found out.

"What am I going to tell her then?" he asked with a raise of his eyebrows.

"Nothing." she shrugged, "We don't have to tell them anything." he scoffed, not very happy with her answer. He glanced away from her as he rolled the paper of his straw into a small ball.

"So just disappear in the middle of the night like some Bond villain." he summarized. She laughed a little.

"Yeah, kinda…" she trailed off, realizing how right he was. She was leaving Steve behind. But it was the right thing to do. She was protecting him - or at least that's what she had convinced herself of. She didn't know which Bucky she would find. The one who tried to kill her and her friends or the one who was best friends with Steve. Either way, she wasn't about to risk it.

"So are you in or are you out?" she refocused, looking back across the table at him and perking her brow. He eyed her for a long moment before nodding once.

"Someone's gotta make sure you don't get killed." he muttered an excuse as to why he was agreeing to with her. But she had told him the whole story. He was just as curious as she was to see what else had been kept secret from her and how it would pan out.

A few days passed before they left - they still had to figure out a general plan. During the two weeks Q stayed at Dawson's, she found a file folder in the room she shared with Steve. It was a thick dossier of some sort, in Ukrainian. She had no idea what it said, but one simple flip of the cover let her know exactly who it was about.

Google Translate told her next to nothing, since it was hard to figure out what letters were in the handwritten description. From what she could gather, it was a general summary of what was in the dossier:  _James Barnes - military records, experiment logs._ Or at least that's what she put together. Thankfully, it was stamped with the KGB header and a location:  _Dnipropetrovsk Oblast,_ a province in central Ukraine. If there was any place to start, that would be it.

As they packed their bags, made their flight reservations and set up their first place to stay, the guilt of leaving Steve started to settle on her shoulders. Deep down, she knew she had to tell him; it wasn't the right thing to do - to just disappear on him. She just could never find the words or the right way to tell him. So she had convinced herself every time she failed to find the words, that she was doing it to protect him. It was still too fragile of a situation. Who knew what would happen if they found Bucky. What if he was in some altered state - or in something way worse? She would feel even more guilty for dragging him into disappointment. Therefore, she wasn't being selfish, she was being considerate. Or at least that's what she had convinced herself of.

Still, she knew her trip would probably mean the end of whatever they had together. She was self-aware enough to know that her leaving without a true explanation would hurt him. It was a sacrifice, but it was a sacrifice she was willing to make. Didn't mean she loved him any less. In fact, she loved him more than anyone she had ever loved before. And that scared her a bit. Things were good -  _too_  good, which meant it was only a matter of time before it all came crashing down anyway. It made sense that her leaving would be the cause of the end.

Even though it had taken them a bit to plan everything, the night before she was meant to leave still came all too quick. It was her last night with Steve for, well, for probably ever. She was about to betray him in the worst way possible, but for a reason that one day, she hoped he'd forgive her for.

"Everything alright?" he asked, interrupting a moment of quiet between them. They were sitting next to each other at the dinner table, two large pizza boxes in the middle of the table. One for each of them. She was running her thumb across his knuckles while her fingers played with his, almost like she was trying to memorize the pads of his fingers.

"Just missed you." she responded with a soft smile. He raised his eyebrows at her, a little surprised by her answer.

"We were only apart for a few hours." he teased lightly, a half smile on his face, but an underlying question beneath. Not that he was complaining about the way she was acting in the moment, but he had noticed her head seemed to be somewhere else over the past few days. She leaned forward, tugging on his hand so he moved closer as well.

"Don't ask questions," she hummed, hand reaching for the side of his face as their foreheads touched, "just kiss me." her voice was soft but firm. He did as she said: pressing his lips against hers in a loving kiss. She immediately deepened it, hand moving up to grip at his hair while she moved herself to straddle his lap.

When he moved them to the bedroom, she tried to memorize every little detail. The way he held her like she was the most precious thing on the planet. The way he touched her softly, trailing his fingers around her skin and making a map to somewhere only he knew. The way his lips pressed kisses full of love and praise over the parts of her that she hated the most. The way he looked at her like she was the first and last woman he had ever seen. The way he said her name like a prayer, reverently, but in praise.

She tried to kiss him as much as she could - knowing that it would be what she missed the most. People told her not to expect fireworks every time she kissed someone. While that had been true with people she had kissed before, whenever she kissed Steve, it felt like Fourth of fucking July. Each kiss lit her up from the inside, encasing her in a bubble of light. They left her dizzy, breathless and aching for more.

While they were in bed, the trip was the furthest thing from her mind. She was only focused on him, wanting to remember everything without any tinge of regret. It would be the last time they would ever be together, so she tried to make it last as long as possible. But all good things always came to an end.

Her hands gently combed through his hair while he laid his head on her chest. She could feel his finger on her navel, mindlessly tracing the circle of her belly button. The only sounds in the room were their quiet breaths, both coming down from a kind of high they could only get to when together. One that felt much better than the kind they got when they were alone.

The reminder of what she was going to do in a few short hours was beginning to crush her once again. Her breath hitched as her emotions took over - easy enough for them to do in her fragile, hormonal state. Before he could realize what was going on, she gently pushed his head off of her so she could get out bed. She couldn't let him see her cry. That would just open up the dam.

"Queenie…?" he asked, lifting his head to watch her practically run to the bathroom. The door shut behind her with a click and then another as the lock slid into place.

Turning on the sink at full blast, she sunk down to the floor with a small sob. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to let the tears escape. She couldn't start crying. Her face would get all red and puffy. Steve would ask her what was wrong. Everything would fall apart - even though it already was about to.

After taking a minute to compose herself, she turned off the sink and went back into the bathroom. Steve was eager to welcome her with open arms, letting her settle with her legs across his lap and the side of her body leaning against him. He held her close, kissing the top of her head while his thumb rubbed her shoulder. She tried to stay quiet, but her thoughts kept drifting to what she was going to do.

A sniffle escaped, making her grimace and drop her head down. She immediately moved off of him and went to lay down with her back to him. But it was too late, he had heard it.

"You okay?" he asked softly, carefully as if afraid of the answer. His hand went to rub at her back in a soothing manner. She nodded, still refusing to look at him because tears had started to trickle out.

"I'm fine." her voice cracked at the end, giving her away. The bed shifted as he moved so he was laying down more, only the back of his head being propped up by pillows. His hand slid up from her back to her shoulder, gently rolling her over.

"Queenie, c'mon, what's wrong?" he was beginning to get worried. Did he hurt her? Say something he wasn't supposed to? No matter how many times they had sex since getting together, he was still sort of new at it. There were bound to be fuck-ups during the fucking.

"It's nothing, don't worry about it." she shook her head, hand going to wipe at her eyes, "It's just hormones." she mumbled.

"Don't bullshit me." he dryly responded. She finally rolled over, fixing him with a look that was meant to seem casual.

"Sometimes the rush of hormones and endorphins following orgasm can lead to an emotional response." she rattled out, tone turning to the one she always used when repeating something she read somewhere. The one that made her sound like a doctor, "You gave me a lot of orgasms tonight." she pulled the corners of her mouth down and she shrugged, trying to be casual and cool. He snorted and rolled his eyes, arm going to wrap around her shoulders so he could pull her close. She immediately cuddled into him, arms wrapping around his waist and legs intertwining with his.

"You know I love you, right?" she asked after a moment, voice still kind of watery. He looked down, seeing that she was looking up at him. He gave her a grin, hand running down her hair.

"Of course."

"I love you more than anything in the world." she expanded, sounding serious as tears filled her eyes once more. The grin on his face faltered a bit.

"I love you too." he responded, pulling her in a bit more. She took in a shaky breath and tried to give him a smile,

"Promise me you won't forget that? Ever?" his brow furrowed, instantly becoming concerned by how she was acting and what she was saying.

"Baby, why are you talking like this is the last time I'm gonna see you?" he asked instead of agreeing to her request. She hesitated for a moment. Everything inside was screaming at her to tell him about what was going to happen, but she couldn't find the words.

"I just wanted to make sure you know." she settled on, giving him a small smile. He let out a small laugh, reaching around with his other arm so he could pull her on top of him.

"I do." he assured her. She bit her bottom lip for a moment before leaning forward to give him a soft kiss. Their last kiss. Though the kiss only lasted a few seconds, it was the most perfect kiss they had ever shared. Nothing else mattered.

When she finally, regretfully, pulled away, a blissful smile graced his features. He moved up to kiss her forehead, then her nose, each cheek, her chin, and then finally one last peck on her lips. His arms moved back down to wrap around her waist, pressing her close against him, where she was content to fall asleep.

Morning came all too quickly. The bed dipped as Steve tried to get up without really waking her. Usually he succeeded, only jostling her out of her sleep momentarily, but this time she forced herself to actually wake up. She needed to. It was the only chance she had to leave so she didn't have to face him.

Of course, she wasn't  _actually_ just going to disappear on him without a trace. That would cause way more harm than good. And she was already causing enough harm as it was. She didn't need him worrying about her safety or anything like that. Knowing him, he'd do everything in his power to track her down. She couldn't have that happen.

Which was why she wrote him a very lengthy letter detailing what she was doing. Well, not  _all_  the details, just the ones that matter. She was leaving. It wasn't his fault. She was sorry. She would be safe. Don't come looking for her. Yes, she knew how angry and upset he was. She was sorry again. And that she loved him. She loved him more than anything she could measure or compare to the size or the width of something tangible.

Then, she left.

By the time Steve got back from his run, Q was gone. Though, he didn't notice her absence right away. He was already going through their morning routine: kicking off his sneakers and heading into the bedroom with her breakfast sandwich and hot chocolate from the bodega on his route back. But when he got to the bedroom, he found the bed was empty - nicely made, but empty.

"Queenie?" he called out, pausing as he waited for a response that wouldn't come. Brow furrowing, he went another route, "JARVIS, where's Q?" he asked aloud as he wandered through the floor, looking for her. She wasn't in the bedroom or the bathroom. The living room and dining area were empty - even the kitchen, which she wasn't allowed in in the first place, was empty.

" _Sorry, Captain. I don't have any record of Q being here."_ JARVIS' voice answered, sounding confused. It confused him too.

"What do you mean? She's been here every day for the past month and a half." he set the hot chocolate and breakfast sandwich on the counter, digging into his pocket for his phone, "Access your logs from this morning. See who left this floor and when."

" _The only person I have logged leaving the floor is you, sir. At 6:45am Eastern standard time."_ the system responded. Steve was beginning to get frustrated,

"No one else?" he snapped out as he pulled up Q's contact on his phone,

" _No, sir."_ it sounded regretful. Steve let out a huff, pressing the call button on his screen. It didn't even ring, going straight to voicemail.

"Fuck." he muttered before trying again, but the call went straight to voicemail once again. "Fuck!" he raised his voice, beginning to panic. Where the hell was she? Why wasn't she answering her phone? Why didn't JARVIS have any record of her leaving? His mind was running a thousand miles per minute with scenarios that all ended terribly. He searched the floor, pulling apart closets and drawers in search of any clues as to where she might have gone.

And then, right there on the center of the bed, was an envelope with his name on it. His name in her slanted, all-caps handwriting. Tentatively, he reached out to it, almost like he was afraid it was going to bite him. He carefully opened it, still unsure what was inside, only to pull out a thick, three paged letter that was written in her handwriting.

As he read, his knees began to give out. He slowly sat down until his butt touched the edge of the mattress. The weight of what he was reading pushed him off the bed and onto the floor, where he sat with his knees up to his chest. His heart sank with every sentence, cracked with every paragraph, until it was broken into a myriad of tiny, little pieces.

There wasn't much of an explanation in the letter, but he read the whole thing. Twice. And then again, but paying attention to certain phrases or the layout of the letter. As if the answer as to why she had left would be nestled in between the lines. But it wasn't.

All he knew was that she was gone.


	51. six months after

" _Where are you right now?"_ his voice crackled over the speaker of the phone, " _I hope it's somewhere warm..."_

Spring had finally broke. Ukraine was no longer the cold desert wasteland they had first touchdown in. Which made doing things a lot easier now that they weren't dressed in layers upon layers.

" _Somewhere safe…"_

Dnipropetrovsk Oblast was a huge industrial region that they had been staying at for the last six months. The city had just been reopened to foreigners after perestroika came to a head in 1987. Of course, it meant that everyone knew they were new in town - no matter how much they tried to blend in. The only safe place they had was the shoddy motel room they had claimed as their safehouse, even though it was the furthest thing from safe. But there were two beds so they weren't complaining  _that_ much.

Blaming the winter months was an easy excuse to stay indoors and stay under the radar. They took that time to learn the language and the city so the the times they did go out, they wouldn't look like idiots and catch the attention of some unsavory people.

Dnipropetrovsk proved to have much more than either of them anticipated. From their research, it seemed that, at one point during the war, the city was one of Hydra's bases. The State Committee of Defense in Moscow originally decided to build a large military machine-building factory, Yuzhmash, in Dnipropetrovsk on the location of the pre-war aircraft plant. In December of 1945, thousands of German prisoners of war began construction and built the first sections and shops in the new factory.

Because of the factory's successes, it became the major center for designing, constructing, manufacturing, testing and deploying strategic and space missile complexes in the Soviet Union. Though it was all kept under tight wraps; the general public had no idea what was going on in the factory. The KGB was allowed to operate the factory as its own entity in the Soviet Union and the city of Dnipropetrovsk was officially closed to foreign visitors in 1959 - which allowed Hydra to open a secret division in the factory, underground, away from what the majority of the scientists were doing, for their Soldier Project.

" _...with someone you trust."_

Dawson's fist came flying toward her, forcing her to dodge it moments before it came in contact with her face. The wind of the motion whistled past her, but she didn't pay any attention to it - already focused on her counter-attack. She swiped her foot out across the floor, knocking him off his feet so he landed with a thud on the carpeted motel floor. A groan escaped his chest as all the air was pushed out of his body. He squeezed his eyes shut while she stood above him, hands on her hips.

"Gotta plant those feet, dude." she reminded him. He groaned again, rolling to his side so he could get to his feet. Letting out a huff, he picked his arms back up and set his stance again. She briefly wondered what the people below them thought was happening when they started their sparring sessions. Maybe they just thought they were very sexually active (which gross), but since no one ever told them to stop, she figured they were fine.

"I hate how aggressive you've gotten during a hangover. Most of us just want to lay in bed, yaknow? You used to be one of those people, Q." he reminded her as she mirrored him and waited for his attack.

"I used to be a lot of things." she sighed, cracking her neck and gesturing for Dawson to start another round.

Dawson was the only one she had anymore. She was grateful he had come along with her, knowing it was just as hard for him to leave Natasha as it was for her to leave Steve. Where Q had just left without a word, he had gotten into a huge fight with Natasha that left him angry with Q for the first month and a half. Slowly, the anger wore out and was replaced with a bitterness she hadn't dealt with before, but then that dissipated into the way Dawson usually acted - only with a tinge of depression, just like her.

The first three months were hard, harder than Q ever thought possible. She never realized how much she could miss a person until she was away from Steve. Maybe it was because he wasn't  _just_ a person, but her home. Either way, she knew she had no one to blame for the pain but herself. Almost every day was spent drowning herself in whatever alcohol they had lying around, usually cheap pepper vodka or even cheaper beer, in an effort to numb the self-inflicted pain. Dawson was in charge during those months, keeping their significant ex-others off their tails, which was hard enough to do, but even harder considering one was an ex-KGB spy and the other was Captain  _fucking_ America.

As the rest of the months went by, things became a little easier. Dawson gave her a much needed kick in the ass, reminding her why they were in Ukraine and how the trail was already pretty cold to begin with (no pun intended). From there, she threw herself into recon - analyzing the security camera footage Dawson had pulled from the former Hydra factory and other random parts of the city. She studied the people, how they interacted with each other, what they did during certain times, came up with a plan as to when and how they would sneak into the factory...she did her job. And when she wasn't doing her job, she was training or learning the language with Dawson. They had gotten some Insanity workouts along with a lot of Duolingo tests in an effort to strengthen both their bodies and minds.

In the last three months, Q had done more exercise than she had done in her entire life. Partially because she needed to build up some semblance of strength since going into Dnipropetrovsk and tracking down Hydra was bound to throw her into some fights with some very dangerous people. Mostly because she needed a distraction; she had come to an agreement with Dawson to only drink at night, which meant her days were free for her to wallow and let her depression get the best of her.

When they did venture out of their motel room, besides going to get food and water and alcohol, it was to somewhere far enough outside the city that no one would bother them - or mind when they tested out the guns they had gotten off some third party seller who didn't ask questions or care who they were. Both of them had handled guns before, so it was more about refining their skills because most times fists alone wouldn't work.

_"I don't know if you miss me anymore, but...I still miss you."_

There were nights where she wanted nothing more than to just give up and go home. Ukraine wasn't her favorite country. It had been cold and lonely, even if she had Dawson with her. All she wanted to do was to call Steve, tell him everything, ask for his help...but as more time passed, the damage she had done felt irrevocable. She had destroyed the only good thing in her life because of some stupid, hundred year old prison of war who was her grand uncle. Sometimes she wondered if it was even worth it.

And the depression still lingered, popping up whenever she was alone at night - when she hadn't drank enough to pass out, leaving her staring at the ceiling for an hour or so. Hopelessness was a void that she could drown in, only making it worse by listening to the voicemails Steve had left over the past six months. He had left dozens upon dozens of them. Ranging from simple one sentence ones, to angry ones to even just ones where the only sound is his breath — like he had forgotten how to leave a voicemail. Those were the ones she always fell asleep to; it reminded her of how she fell asleep before, almost like her own personal white noise.

" _I wish there was a way for me to convince you to come home. I've tried - which you know from my hundreds of messages."_ his voice sounded sad and tired. Different than the first few messages where he was worried, concerned and then the next ones became angry, frustrated, before moving on to bargaining...almost like he was going through the five stages of grief. And it sounded like he was teetering on acceptance. Accepting the fact that she would never be coming home - back to him.

Maybe one day she would. But first she needed to find Bucky.

_"I love you, Q. I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for."_


	52. a simple b and e

The flashlight scanned over the empty, dark and semi-quiet room. The room would've been completely quiet if not for the steady dripping noise coming from one of the back corners from a leak of some sort. Q hoped it was just water, but wouldn't be investigating further to confirm or deny it. The sub-basement was already creepy enough.

Surprisingly, when Q and Dawson arrived at Dnipropetrovsk, they found that the factory Hydra had used as a cover for the start of the soldier project was still active, even though Russia, the factory's biggest buyer, had previously announced it was severing the relationship. This discovery made it clear that the pair would have to be stealthy when it came to getting into the former Hydra base. It took awhile to figure out the best way in - recon on security, entrances and exits, and whatever else they needed to make sure they had covered before launching their mission. Even if SHIELD had collapsed, basic mission protocol was ingrained into their brains and they weren't about to throw that away.

"This looks like something straight out of  _Saw_." Dawson commented, sounding a bit grossed out. She closed her eyes and let out a long breath.

"I hate that you said that." she let her annoyance seep into her tone, "Now I'm freaked out."

"Good, you should be." he gave her a side eye, keeping his flashlight steady, "Who knows what Hydra's got hidden in here."

"Okay, it's time for you to stop talking." she said matter of factly, nodding her head once and pressing her lips together. Reaching up to adjust her black ski hat, she tried to ignore the nervousness bubbling up in her stomach, tying itself it into knots while her head went to a terrible place full of Hydra torture. Picturing them capturing her and strapping her to one of the dusty machines in the room - doing whatever they did to Bucky, but to her and much more advanced since they had years to perfect their methods. It was one of her worst nightmares.

But the two of them were the only ones in the room. And there was barely anything in the room to begin with, but what they did find proved that, at one point, Hydra operated in the basement of the building. Just like Dawson had said, it looked like a place straight out of every horror/torture movie Q hated. And while she did half expect there to be a Hydra operative waiting for them, waiting to capture them and experiment on them like they had countless times to others in the past. But instead, there was just old hospital gear and machinery all covered with a thick layer of dust. No one had been there for a very long time.

But people  _had_ been there. That much she could tell by the leftover coffee mugs, office supplies and worn in chairs. There was a large canister that looked similar to the machine Howard Stark had put Steve in to pump him full of the soldier serum. And another machine that had long since melted, but was retrofitted with straps that looked able to hold down a man of Bucky's size. The concrete walls were decorated in long, deep scrapes that could've only been made by something like the metal arm on Bucky. An old, rickety desk with drawers that seemed to hold only old office supplies, but further investigation proved that one of the drawers had been locked. And since it was still locked however many years later, there had to be something inside.

Q dropped into a crouch, pulling out her knife from her boot to try and break the lock, knowing it would be easier than using a bobby pin on a rusted, seventy year old lock. She slid the blade into the small space where the desk met the drawer and rocked it back and forth with some force behind it until she heard a crack. The drawer popped open and she stood above it to see a thick notebook resting in the center, obviously tossed in there haphazardly and forgotten about. It had the same star that was on Bucky's arm, black standing out against the red leather cover. Picking it up and leafing through it, she found that it was missing a few pages, but had handwritten notes in the same language that the dossier had. She saw the world  _soldier_  and  _arm_  a few times which made her feel as though they were on the same path. She would have to translate the rest once they were back at the motel.

The basement was their beginnings. But where they went from there was a mystery. Q wasn't even sure  _when_  they had left the factory.

"Alright, let's get the hell out of here." she slipped the notebook into the inside pocket of her jacket, then rezipped it up so it was snug and she didn't have to worry about it falling out during their trek back to the car.

"Gimme a sec." he answered her, sounding slightly annoyed at her - like he was being rushed through whatever he was doing.

"What are you doing?" she asked with a step toward him. He was at one of the computers, typing in some long string of code that looked like an alien language to her. She surprised that the computer even functioned after having been turned off for however long. It was a bulky thing - barely even a computer by present day's standards, but still Dawson was working at it like it was a modern day laptop.

"Trying to see what their last log was." he said over his typing, "See if it can tell us where they went next." That was exactly why Q had brought him along - among other reasons of course, "And I'm also trying to get any other information they might have stored on their network."

"Like a Hydra Network?" she asked, arms crossing over her chest. He made a  _mhm_  noise, "What you think they have some sort of chat room where they discuss their evil-doings?" she was joking, obviously, but the look Dawson gave her from over his shoulder told her she was right on the money.

"SHIELD had one…" he trailed off, making his point. She raised her eyebrows, making a face as she realized he was right. His attention returned back to the computer, leaving her to her own devices. She wandered over to one of the walls, letting her fingers trail over the scrapes in the concrete. Her heart sank as she thought more and more about what sorts of tortures Bucky experienced at the hands of Hydra as they tried to form him into the cold, calculating weapon they needed him to be. She wondered what kind of man they would find whenever they did find him - or if he would even be a man at all.

A loud clap made her jump and she quickly looked over to where Dawson was straightening up from the computer he had been at. His posture made it clear that he had been the one to clap, which made her roll her eyes;  _of course._

"Find anything interesting?" she asked with a perk of her eyebrows. He took in a deep breath, placing his hands on his hips.

"Probably." he shrugged, making a face, "Gonna need some time to translate and read 'em though." she nodded. That was understandable; even with all the Duolingo they had been doing, they were in no way fluent quite yet, just mastering conversational Ukrainian, which was enough to stop having people have eyes on them like they were tourists.

"So can we go?" she asked, waving her flashlight toward the door. He nodded crossing over the room to her and leading her out of the room.

Getting out of the factory was much easier than getting in. Especially now that they knew where the guards were and the timing on the cameras. The night was as quiet as the sub-basement. There was no one around, which was good; it meant that no one had noticed their sneaking in. They had been successful in their mission.

The pair of them were quiet during their trek back to the car. There was plenty to say, plenty to talk about, but just not in public. And especially when they were starting to get to a populated part of the town, what with people wandering by, able to hear whatever they said.

Their car was parked in an empty parking lot, surrounded by a lot of dim lights that gave off enough for them to see three men hanging out around the car. She slowed in her steps, trying to analyze their body language before she and Dawson got any closer. While the men were varying heights, all of them clearly went to the same gym. Their coats did nothing but show off their muscles, which were straining against the material. Two were smoking while the other was drinking something from a can - probably a beer, Q figured. They were laughing at something one had said. It seemed like nothing more than a casual hangout.

"Hydra?" Dawson muttered lowly, concerned even - as if Hydra had found about their little B-and-E and sent guys to make sure it would never happen again.

"No, I don't think so." she responded with a slight shake of her head, "Probably just some idiots hanging out in a parking lot."

"You say that like it's normal." he side-eyed her, unconvinced by her explanation. She shrugged,

"I used to do it all the time as a teen." he rolled his eyes, hands shoving into his pockets.

"Case and point." he scoffed, reminding her of who she was as a teen. She sighed and then straightened up a bit, trying to look more authoritative.

"If they give us any trouble, we'll just ask them to move." she shrugged, trying to play it off like it wouldn't be such a big deal. There was no reason to get in a fight. Fights would draw attention to them and that was the last thing they needed. Still, Dawson looked unconvinced - thinking it wouldn't be  _that_ easy.

As they got closer to the car, the men's attention turned to them. They stepped a little further away from the car and shifted closer to the two of them instead. Giving them a tight, but cordial smile, Q and Dawson tried to walk through them, wanting to get to the car without any interaction. But one of the taller men stepped in front, blocking them. Dawson looked up at him, the same annoyed look that was always directed at Q now directed at the other man. He stepped to the side, trying to walk around him, but again the taller man blocked him.

At that moment, the air shifted. A tense cloud rolled over the four people standing there. Q's eyes flicked from the other two men flanking the taller man. Their expressions were stone cold while the taller one looked almost amused by Dawson's attempts to go around him.

"We're trying to get to our car." Dawson said in Ukrainian - having known enough to make for conversation. He gestured along with his statement just in case he said something wrong. The man glanced over his shoulder, almost like he had forgotten there was a car behind him, before looking back at Dawson.

"What are you two doing out so late?" he asked back in the same language, hands coming to clasp in front of his body. Dawson squinted at him before raising his chin up,

"Date night." he responded, sounding annoyed by the question. Q kept quiet, eyes still watching the other two men. The taller man made a face, pulling down the corner of his lips and nodding to himself before looking over at the other two men and repeating what Dawson had said. The other men laughed lightly, as if it were some sort of joke. Dawson's eyebrows knitted in anger, never liking when someone mocked him.

When the laughter died down, the taller man's attention turned back to them - eyes landing on Q. He reached out for her, saying something in Ukrainian that Q couldn't translate fast enough. But she didn't need to; Dawson immediately reached out to stop the man,

"Hey, man, don't touch her." he said in English, which got the man's attention more than the deflecting. His eyebrows rose and his lips spread out into a wolfish grin.

"American, eh?" he asked in lilted English. Dawson didn't respond, hand still on the other man's forearm. Taking his non-response as a response, the man suddenly moved to grab Dawson, using his other hand to grab Dawson's arm from his forearm and twist it behind his back. He let out a cry of pain and Q immediately tried to do something, only to be restrained by the more muscular of the men.

Even with six months of Insanity workouts and sparring under her belt, she had only ever fought Dawson. She knew his patterns and what moves he would make before he knew he was going to make them. But he was no match for the man currently holding her with her arms behind her back and one arm around her stomach, pressing her into his chest. She struggled, trying to find any slack in his grip, but it was as tight as knotted rope.

"What are two  _Americans_ doing out this late at night?" the taller man asked in the same lilted English while Dawson tried to get out of the hold he was in. Again, Dawson didn't answer, forcing the man to spin him around quickly and slam his back up against the car hood. His fist immediately came down on Dawson's face, not even giving him enough time to try and dodge it.

Q couldn't help the scream that came out of her mouth. The man who was holding her clapped his hand over her mouth in an effort to silence her. Immediately, she tried to bite it, but found that there wasn't enough space to really open her mouth. Luckily, there was enough to stick her tongue out and lick his hand until he was grossed out enough to drop it from her mouth.

Using his disgust as a distraction, she pitched her head back with enough force to slam into his forehead. It hurt her just as much as it hurt him, but was enough to make him let her go. Quickly, she ran towards the taller man, who had grabbed Dawson up by the lapels of his jacket, but was stopped when the other man she had forgotten about grabbed her arm. He roughly pulled her back as she twisted every which way to get out of the grip, planting her feet as best she could to become immovable.

"Let me ask again: What are two Americans doing out here this time night?" the taller man asked as blood started to drip down from Dawson's nose. He let out a dry laugh, head rolling to the side as he did. His hair fell into his face, getting stuck in the blood that was dripping out of his nose. God, if he wasn't being dangled above the ground by some tall, muscular man, Q would kill him. Now was not the time for his attitude.

"Fuck you." he spat out, making sure he got enough blood in his mouth to actually spit out onto the man's face. The man obviously didn't take too kindly to that. He threw Dawson onto the ground, letting him roll around the concrete with a groan for a moment before placing a well aimed kick into Dawson's side.

"Stop it!" Q cried out, voice much shriller than it normally was. The man didn't listen, rounding up for another kick. She noticed every time he did kick Dawson, his arm went up as if to help him with his balance. It left his side exposed, which was something she could use to her advantage.

She unplanted her feet just as the other man pulled again in an effort to get her to him. The force of his pull sent her flying forward and she used it to her advantage. Her palm to hit up against the man's nose hard enough to make him let go as he went stumbling back, holding his face with his hands. She turned to the taller man as he kicked Dawson again, making him roll over onto his stomach with a groan. She went into her boot for her knife, pulling it out and lunging at him with grace - aiming right for his side as his arm went up for another kick.

There was enough power behind the action that the knife sunk right in. Going past the coat and whatever other layers he had on, it buried itself into his side. She swiftly pulled it out, knowing it would cause more damage than leaving it in. He let out a cry of pain, attention no longer on Dawson, but instead on Q. As a reaction, his fist came at her and she tried to use her knife to block it, but he smacked it out of her hand. Then his other hand came and punched her across the face without hesitation.

The force alone was enough to knock her off her feet. She crumpled to the ground with a small cry of pain, only to be delivered a swift kick to the gut. Rolling onto her side, she saw Dawson still on the ground next to her. The men were above them, looking down at them with anger and distaste and slight annoyance.

Suddenly, the taller man's boot came down onto Dawson's hand. He stomped down on it twice, making Dawson cry out in a way Q had never heard before. She winced, eyes shutting instinctively as the sounds of bones crunching filled her ears. Dawson's string of curse words did nothing to affect the men.

"Let this be a lesson." the taller man said seriously before turning away. Q could hear their retreating footsteps and watched as they walked away from them, the taller one holding his side where she stabbed him. She waited until they were far enough away to roll onto her back and stare up at the night sky above them. Dawson's cries had subsided into labored, heavy breaths as he tried to deal with the pain.

"'Sure they weren't fucking Hydra!?" he managed out through gritted teeth. She closed her eyes, not even responding, just taking a moment for the pain of the punch/kick combo to fade into a dull ache so that she could get up and help Dawson to the car.

Before they left, she made sure she grabbed her knife from where it had went flying out of her grasp. Wiping it on her pants, she got rid of the blood from the man and then stuck it back in her boot. Dawson was on his feet, using the side of the car to prop himself up. There was streaks of drying blood around his face and he was cradling his smashed hand in the other hand, wincing every so often because of the pain.

"We can't go to a hospital." she reminded him when she was close enough to see the damage they had done.

"I know." he breathed out before cursing under his breath. While it would make perfect sense to go to a hospital for his injury, hospitals had become a no-go. Simply because it meant their ex-significant others would be able to find them. There were security cameras and information being entered into computers connected to networks that Nat and Steve no doubt had access to.

"Let's just...go back to the motel and figure this out." she decided on. It was better than being out in the open where someone could see them and the blood and decide to call the cops. He nodded, grimacing again. She swallowed the lump in her throat, feeling somewhat responsible for what had happened to Dawson. The only reason he got his hand stomped on was because she dragged him into this mess in the first place. And now she couldn't even fix it properly.

Once back at the motel, she helped him up the stairs to their room, walking down the hallway in front of him and always checking her surroundings in case any of the men decided to follow them. She brought Dawson into the bathroom, letting him sit on the toilet while she perched on the edge of the tub. When she passed the mirror, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, seeing the side of her face was already puffing up from the punch - there was even a small cut under her eye from the ring the man had apparently been wearing when he punched her. She would worry about herself later, taking care of Dawson was her first priority.

Under the bright bathroom light, they were finally able to see the severity of Dawson's wound. His hand was nothing more than broken bones and bloody skin. It hung limply from the wrist, shaking slightly even though he tried to stop it. Every time he tried to move his fingers, or she dragged a warm washcloth over it, he'd hiss in pain. The guilt crept back in as she washed it gently with the washcloth, wanting to clean it up as much as possible. This was her fault. She had to find a way to help him heal.

Mid-wound assessment and cleanup, the click of the door being opened got their attention. She waited for a moment before hearing the door shut with the same click.

"You locked the door, right?" he asked quietly. She nodded, getting up from the edge of the tub.

"I thought I did." she kept her voice the same level as his.

"Deadbolt too?" he asked a follow-up, making her pause. Maybe she didn't do that. His eyes flicked to her as she opened the medicine cabinet to grab the gun that was stashed there - one of many stashed around the motel. "Stay here -" she tried to say, but Dawson ignored her, grabbing the gun from her hand with his good one. She gave him a look, getting a wide-eyed look right back as they silently communicated for a moment. Then she sighed, giving in and turning back to the doorway. She crept forward, hoping it was just room service, but knowing it was too late for that.

Stepping out of the bathroom and into the hallway area with Dawson behind her, Q saw a figure rifling through one of the duffels on the dresser. The dim light from the nightstand gave way to the fact that this was a young woman. Tall, lithe with long, curly hair that Q's first thought was that it was Nat - that somehow she had bypassed Dawson's security camera trick and found them, but no it wasn't Nat, no, it was  _someone else._ The click of the gun's safety being turned off made the figure's head flick up, curls bouncing as she looked over at them.

"Jesus Christ, cOmrade." the woman laughed a little, putting her hands up, "Please file  _you holding a gun_  under things I never thought I'd see." The use of Dawson's old hacker name made Q pause and turn to look over her shoulder to where he was standing behind her with a gun pointed at the other woman. His jaw clicked and he hesitated for a moment before lowering the gun and clicking the safety back on.

"Marina." he sighed, not sounding unhappy but certainly not sounding happy at the sight of the woman standing across the motel room.

* * *


	53. marina

Before SHIELD, it was just him and his computers in his bedroom. Spending his days taking down shady corporations and hedge funds, Dawson was anything but a modern day Robin Hood. All he was trying to do was fill his own bank account through directly stealing funds or taking information and selling it to a third party - watching others crash and burn was an added bonus. Thinking of what he did almost like a video game, he kept trying to reach new levels. Which meant treading in dangerous waters whenever he attacked networks belonging to different governments around the world. Of course, that's what landed him in SHIELD's hands, but that was beside the point.

Before Q, there was Marina. Known as Override, she was Dawson's biggest competition in the world he played in. Always trying to be one step ahead of him, their relationship began when he found that she had hit a certain company's network before he had - draining them of the money and information he so desperately wanted. Focusing all of his energy on finding her became a personal vendetta for him. Never before had someone been able to slip past him and get ahead at the same time. And he had to admit, she was hard to track down. Smart and knowing how to keep her tracks covered, she managed to evade him for a few days before he found her. Promptly stealing back what wasn't his to begin with started an all out digital war between them. Thus a beautiful frenemy-ship was born.

Over the years that passed, they became as close as two could from opposite sides of the world. Mostly out of spite, partly because they both lived by the code of keeping enemies closer than friends. Always trying to outsmart the other and get ahead, taking down certain domestic and international networks faster than the other and upping the stakes at every possible moment, it became a game between the two hackers to keep things interesting. Keystroke patterns were recognized, dummy IP addresses were familiar and there were always little sardonic messages hidden in whatever code that was left behind that only the other would see.

Besides the unspoken game they played, they would swap stories with each other. Sometimes even giving each other advice when it was unrelated to anything that could be detrimental to the other. No need to know about their weaknesses that could be used against them, right? If it wasn't for the constant one-upping and take-downs, the two could be considered friends in any other world.

But suddenly, Dawson disappeared. There was no sign of him - even when the news broke about Pym Technologies' newest attempt in their effort to spearhead the advancement in fields of nanotechnology, human enhancements, and molecular and atomic studies; just thinking about getting her hands on that information made dollar signs dance in her head so she figured Dawson would be all over it. But he wasn't. There was no sign of his keystroke pattern or any sarcastic messages in leftover code - not even any traps that were set. He had disappeared off the grid. Which worried her; if they got him, it would only be a matter of time until they got her.

Of course, she had tried to find him. Finding things that had mysteriously "disappeared" from the internet was one of her best skills. Nothing was ever really deleted from the internet, no matter how hard people tried to hide it or get rid of it.

Plus, he was an actual person with a social security number and unique fingerprint to match. She had seen his face, knew what he looked like. He existed in the world - Marina just needed to find him.

It proved much harder than she expected it to be. Whatever had happened him, whoever had gotten to him, made sure he was completely untraceable. Not to mention, he had taken precautions even before going cold. Never really venturing outside of his house, but when he did, he paid for things in cash and had made sure security cameras and streetlight cameras were never able to connect him to his information - securing his identity and safety in the world much more than any security company boasted they could. Paranoia colored every one of his actions, but it was still a smart move. Yet also a terrible one for someone who was actively trying to find him to make sure he was still alive.

No one ever came for Marina though. Whether they didn't know about her or Dawson hadn't told them about her, Marina would never know. She still continued to keep tabs on all of their old marks to see if Dawson ever returned to double dip. But his silence had just grown with each passing year.

In a way, it was easier to do her job without him around. He had always been her biggest competitor and a massive pain in her ass. Yet, there was a part of her that was a little concerned about where he had actually ended up. Had he been caught? Or did he just turn off his computer and go into a normal, dead-end job? The fact that she didn't have a real answer was what frustrated her the most.

But when the news broke that the United States' biggest security intelligence apparatus had been taken down - from people who worked for the division itself, she found out exactly what happened to him. Not only had he been a part of the group who had orchestrated the takedown, but he had been working for the government for the ten years leading up to it.

Marina wanted to feel betrayed; he had turned. SHIELD, as the division was called, had somehow gotten him to do their dirty work for them. Instead, she found herself being almost proud of what he had managed to do. Both of them had taken down companies and exposed sub divisions throughout their time together, but neither one of them managed to take down an entire division of a massive government - especially one that they had been working for.

With the collapse of SHIELD came a massive data dump - including multiple files on Dawson. She spent days reading what he had been up to since he had disappeared and even what he had done to land him in the organization in the first place (the idiot). There was no mention of her, which was a relief, but the data dump did make it much easier to keep tabs on him. That being said, it also helped that his face was on every international news channel, his Congress hearing replayed every week when new details emerged and of course, every other outlet of the American government was questioning him too. Made it much more easier for Marina to learn all about her friend from her past.

There were documents upon documents, the NSA had put shadows on him and updated files every week with minor information that would never be useful, but it was nice to know how he took his coffee at the gas station.

Since the collapse of SHIELD, she tracked his journey. While he hadn't gone dark again, he had gone dim. Most of his work was getting into old databases or security files, something completely outside of his usual modus operandi. There was no stealing of money or leaking information to public networks, just gathering information and moving on.

Six months later, he tripped a silent alarm on a very old network that belonged to the scientific branch of the Nazis: otherwise known as Hydra.

What he was doing in an old Hydra base remained to be seen - all Marina knew was that he was trying to access their network from World War II. She had noticed that his keystroke patterns had been popping up all over Dnipropetrovsk, but there was no pattern. Nothing that could lead her to his exact location since he was using a dummy IP address and accessing the networks from a secure, outside location that bounced her around from tower to tower every time she tried to locate him - meaning he could've been simply doing it from his bedroom like when they were teenagers.

But since the Hydra base was so old, there was no way he could've tapped into it without being directly in front of a computer connected to it. From there, it was like finding an elephant in a room. Finding the location of the base led her to check the surrounding hotels and motels. Of course, all of his previous aliases that she knew were no longer being used, - thanks to the SHIELD data dump, which meant she had to spend a good portion of the night checking every hotel and motel for him. Pretending to be an officer made it easy to trick the front desks, flashing a photo she had taken from a SHIELD file and letting them know he was a very dangerous individual.

And that's how she found him. Standing behind a tall woman with wild, dark waves of hair, holding a gun pointed at Marina with one hand while his other hand was a bloody mess that he cradled against his stomach.

"Jesus Christ, cOmrade." she used his old hacker username so that he would know who she was despite the dimness of the room. Her English was tinged with a slight Ukrainian accent, having only ever spoke it when she needed to. From what she remembered, he only knew English, a small weakness compared to his very long list of strengths. Letting out a slight laugh, she put her hands up in a way to show that she wasn't going to do anything stupid, "Please file  _you holding a gun_  under things I never thought I'd see." Obviously the use of Dawson's old hacker name made the other woman pause and turn to look over her shoulder to where he was standing. She took the moment to glance over Dawson, seeing how much he had grown up since their last video chat some odd years ago. She had seen him on the news and in various photos, but in-person was much different. There was a certain vibe he gave off: annoyance and more annoyance.

Despite the blood on his shirt and the fucked up hand, he had grown into his looks. His jaw, though clenching, was peppered with a five o'clock shadow. His hair was shorter than when she last saw him, but still was tucked behind his ears. Those blue eyes were trained on the other woman in a knowing way, as if giving her an answer to a question she hadn't asked.

She watched them silently communicate for a moment, obviously close enough to do so. They were a team. It was weird to see him so close with another person; she remembered on multiple occasions complaining about dealing with other people.

After the moment of hesitation, he lowered the gun and clicked the safety back on. She lowered her hands, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth as the other woman turned back to look at her, silently wondering what the hell was going on.

"Marina." Dawson sighed, not sounding unhappy but certainly not sounding happy at the sight of her. It had been over a decade since they saw each other last, both nothing more than pimply teens-almost-adults with huge issues with authority. She let her smirk full appear; clearly he still felt the same toward her even after all these years, which was nice and familiar.

"Miss me?" she asked, taking a step closer to the other two. He let out a scoff, shaking his head as he stepped in front of the other woman - almost protectively.

"Hardly." he bit back and she pouted, pretending to be hurt, "How the hell did you find us?" she could already see the gears in his brain turning; if she was able to find them, then so were other people. She just wasn't sure what other people would even be looking for the two.

The only threat she saw standing in the motel room was Dawson and he was barely a threat anymore thanks to his fucked up hand.

"You tried to access an old Hydra network, right?" she asked, dropping herself down onto the bed and bouncing a bit. She lounged there with an expectant expression on her face, waiting for their response. The split second eye exchange between Dawson and the other woman was enough of an answer for her, "You tripped a silent alarm." she gestured to them, hearing him curse under his breath.

"Where was it sent to?" he asked, already moving to where his laptop was on the small motel table. She shook her head, watching him struggle to even open the cover. He winced the entire time, obviously in pain from whatever had happened to his hand. She figured the jaw clench she had seen when they first came face to face was in reaction to her, but she realized it was more because of the pain he was in thanks to his hand.

"I don't know...somewhere in DC…" she trailed off, trying to remember the address she had seen or the account holder username, "Pierce, I think." she shrugged, not really caring about why he was so worried about where the alarm went. According to the data dump, Hydra was using SHIELD as a cover for themselves. And since SHIELD went down, that had to have meant Hydra went down as well.

"Pierce is dead, Dawson." the other woman finally spoke up, reminding Marina that she was there. Dawson shook his head, not stopping his efforts to try and get his computer up and running with just one hand.

"A lot of rats didn't go down with the ship, Q." he reminded her, "We don't know who has access to those files." To Marina, it sounded like he was trying to remind the Q woman of a specific person who might be looking for them. Someone they didn't want finding them. Marina glanced over to Q, taking their distraction with each other to give her a once over.

She looked familiar; the SHIELD data dump had linked her with Dawson as one of the others in the group to take down the organization, but Marina hadn't done that much digging into her files - only looking at the pictures. There were only a few of them anyhow: SHIELD ID photos, or random, blurry security cameras. In-person, she was much taller than Marina realized. Those wild waves of dark hair were the first thing she had noticed, but her jawline was sharp, spotted with dried blood. She was a bit more muscular than she seemed in the blurry photos, but nothing that made Marina worry - she looked like someone who had worked out more than the average person.

"Hey, stop," Q moved over to where Dawson was trying his damndest to get his computer working with one hand, "This is not our biggest concern, right now." Marina watched the interaction, noting how he reacted to Q gently pulling him away from the computer. He relaxed into her touch, nodding a bit as he finally stepped away. He sighed dejectedly, gaze shifting down to his hand and wincing - as if remembering how much it hurt.

"What happened?" Marina asked, gesturing with her chin to his hand. He glanced over at her and she saw his jaw clench again - whether in pain or annoyance this time, she wasn't sure.

"Some assholes jumped us in a parking lot." her eyebrows rose up in surprise, not expecting that answer. She figured since they were in a Hydra base, it had to be something Hydra related. But it was almost the most normal accident to happen in Ukraine.

"And you can't go to a hospital, why?" she asked, moving her head a bit so her curls danced with the move. Both heaved a matching sigh, exchanging another look. Like they were in on a secret together and Marina wasn't allowed to know - but she would find out, even if they didn't want her to.

"We don't want to be found." Q answered simply, gaze returning to Marina. She held eye contact with the other woman for a long moment, almost as if she were trying to see inside Marina. See what made her Marina: what made her tick, made her dance and made her suffer - any and all chinks in the armor. Marina had to look away first, intimidated by the intense eye contact.

"I found you." she pulled down the corners of her lips and shrugged as if it had been as easy as counting to three.

"You were lucky." he snapped back, giving her a glare. She rolled her eyes as she pushed herself up into a sitting position.

"You're still going to need to get that hand checked out, cOmrade." she lifted her chin up, pointing out the obvious, "Doesn't matter if you can't go to a hospital, you need to see someone." she continued as if Dawson and Q didn't already know that. He let out annoyed huff, glaring at her for a moment before lifting his injured hand up.

"Have any suggestions?" he asked with raised eyebrows. She gave him a knowing grin, settling back on her hands again.

"Plenty." she paused, "But first, I want to know what exactly are you doing in Dnipropetrovsk anyway?" she asked, letting her accent come out a bit more with the proper pronunciation of the city they were in, "A little hurt you didn't call to say hello…" she trailed off, fingers lightly tracing the pattern on the motel comforter as her eyes flicked to Dawson's. Dummy IP addresses aside, each of them knew where the other were really located. Time-zones became an unfair advantage as did the language barrier - things that were never not pointed out. He huffed, placing his uninjured hand on his hip and looking to Q. She met his gaze and then shook her head slightly, still wanting to keep their secrets from Marina.

"We're trying to find some...other Hydra operatives." Dawson carefully answered her question, not wanting to trip up and let her in on something that she didn't need to know. It was one thing that she found them, it would be a whole nother thing if she knew who they were looking for. Better to keep it short and vague and hopefully she would leave without causing any more trouble.

"And you're starting at a base used by them during World War II?" Marina asked, brows furrowing a bit in confusion. If they were trying to find Hydra operatives, why not start with those that were mentioned in the data dump?

"We started there to track the journey of the Hydra infiltration." Q cut in, backtracking a bit, "Trying to figure out when they started working with SHIELD, how much control they actually had, where they ended up scurrying off to after SHIELD collapsed, etc. etc." she motioned with her hand as she finished. Marina nodded slowly, taking in the lie that she was so obviously being fed.

"Right, well, I can help you with that." Marina offered simply, pairing it with a slight shrug. Her work led her to meetings with shady people and organizations - Hydra adjacent ones included. She could lend a hand (no pun intended) to help them find whoever they were looking for. And maybe earn enough of their trust to be let in on the real reason they were in Ukraine.

"No, no, absolutely not." he laughed out with a shake of his head, "No way are we letting you get involved with this." she pouted at him, getting to her feet and crossing her arms over her chest like a petulant child.

"Oh, come on, Dawson." she almost cooed, "Let me help you." she reached out for him, but he swatted her hand away in an annoyed manner. Shaking his head again then widening his eyes was enough to let her know he was serious. She sighed dramatically, arms dropping to her sides, "Look at yourself, dude, your hand's all fucked up, you can't go to a hospital, you've gotten involved with some shady shit...I'm really your only option." she squinted one eye shut, tilting her head to the side, "I mean, I can get you to a doctor to have your hand fixed, then stick around and help out with whatever you need help with while you heal."

"We don't need your help, Marina." he bit out, cradling his hand a bit more protectively to his chest, "We can handle this without you." she laughed a bit, looking to Q as she did.

"He's still aggressively stubborn, huh?" she asked with a point at him, acting as if he weren't standing right in front of her. Q raised her eyebrows and nodded, arms crossing over her chest. No reason to lie about that. He scoffed and rolled his eyes, over what was happening in the room.

"Listen, you found us. Great job. And it was great seeing you, Marina, but we've got bigger problems to deal with." he gestured for her to get out of the motel room, pushing her to the side with his uninjured hand. That was enough of a blast from the past reunion for him for that night.

"Hey, hey, hold on a second." Q stopped Dawson from forcing Marina to leave. She put her hand out in the middle of them, looking in between them before speaking directly to Dawson, "She said she could get you to a doctor." she pointed out, glancing down at his injured hand. He scoffed, rolling his eyes,

"I'll be fine, Q. We don't need a doctor." he was over the conversation; it didn't matter how much pain he was in. Getting pain medicine was a lot easier than getting his hand fixed - and would be quicker so he could get back to making sure Nat and/or Rogers didn't trace back the supposed silent alarm he tripped in the Hydra base. It would be even worse if they found the two of them now, what with them both being semi-beaten and semi-broken by the hands of some assholes. He didn't need to have that  _I_   _told you so_ conversation either.

"Okay, maybe you're right." she put her hands up, backing off a bit. But before Dawson could sarcastically thank her, she continued, "Maybe it'll heal. But it won't heal correctly, meaning eventually your muscles will get sore, your tendons and ligaments will get inflamed and you'll feel the pain every time you press a key on your computer." her voice adapted the medical tone he was oh so used to. He sighed, shoulders slumping down as he thought about what she said. He knew she was right, but he always hated when she was. She stepped in between him and Marina, putting one hand on his shoulder as she did, "Listen, we need to fix that hand. It's one of the most important weapons we have." she reminded him. His eyes stayed on hers for a long moment before darting over her shoulder to Marina.

"Fine." he gritted out, not happy with what it had come to, "We'll go to your fancy doctor." she laughed, shaking her head a bit as her arms crossed over her chest.

"Oh he's the furthest thing from  _fancy_." she sounded almost amused by the thought of anyone referring to her doctor as  _fancy,_ which slightly worried Dawson; what were they about to get into this time?


	54. fix a hand, lend a hand

"No anesthetic?" The doctor asked, concern coloring his voice. Both because of the request and because he wanted to make sure he understood. The needle stayed poised above Dawson's hand even as Dawson shook his head.

"Nope, no way. I'm not letting you stick a needle in me filled with God knows what." he said matter-of-factly before repeating his request in Ukrainian to get the point across. The doctor glanced over to where Marina and Q were standing a few feet away as if looking for help or a different answer.

"You'll pass out from the pain." Q countered in English. Dawson shrugged, pulling down the corners of his mouth.

"Better that than being pumped with some sort of poison or whatever." his explanation made Marina scoff, tossing her hair back over her shoulder.

"Don't be so dramatic, dude." she crossed her arms over her chest, accent lilting her words, "Nothing like that is gonna happen." He had seen too many action movies.

"Right, because I'm not taking the anesthetic." he circled back to his original point, "Just let me have this okay?" he raised his other hand up with a sigh, annoyed with the argument that he started. Marina raised her hands up, making a face as she gave in. His eyes shifted over to Q, waiting for her response as well.

Instead of answering, she shifted her stance and grip on the semi-automatic in her hands. It was his hand after all. He could do whatever he wanted and deal with the consequences. And she understood his concern. They didn't know the man - he very well could do something like that to Dawson and he could lose his entire hand instead of having just a few mishealed fingers.

Nodding at her, Dawson turned back to the doctor. With a sigh, the man set down the needle back down on the tray and went back to examining the hand to find the breaks he needed to reset. Every so often, Dawson would wince or hiss in pain - which could've been avoided if he just took the anesthetic. They'd be doing a bedside reduction rather than inserting pins and plates into his hand. Mostly because the doctor they were visiting didn't have the required equipment needed to do so. And if Dawson was refusing anesthetic, he sure as shit wouldn't agree to being put under and letting the doctor open his hand up. Even with Q standing close by with her gun locked and loaded.

As predicted, once the doctor started to manually reset the breaks, Dawson immediately passed out from the pain. While it made it easier for the doctor to continue with the resetting, Q still kept a careful eye on him. She had felt herself get woozy at the sounds of bones moving together to fit back into place, but she forced herself to stay upright. She didn't trust the doctor Marina had taken them too, nor did she  _really_  trust Marina either. But she was grateful that Marina had gotten them to someone who could fix Dawson's hand, even despite how shady the place was.

The "office" was located in a deserted warehouse several kilometers away from the motel. Sheets of plastic made up the walls of the "room" and inside were a couple of makeshift appliances. The doctor himself looked nothing like the doctors both of them were used to - no white lab coat or stethoscope around his neck, just a man in plain clothes with a variety of medical tools at his disposal.

Marina and him seemed to be old friends, even though he called her by a name that wasn't hers. After greeting each other warmly, she had quickly explained the bare bones of the situation in Ukrainian, much too fast for either Q or Dawson to understand completely. But Q was able to catch a few words she understood and could piece it together. Thankfully, the doctor was willing to help - especially after Marina slipped him a thick stack of hryvnia notes.

Keeping one eye on the doctor, she kept the other eye on Marina. With her long, gentle curls of hair and bright, innocent-ish smile, she could see why she had connections with the likes of the doctor. Making herself easily trustable and non-threatening, she became likable no matter the circumstances which attracted people who were not. Adding her looks to her skillset, she had made herself sought after to be a liaison between unsavory parties who wanted to keep themselves and work secret, while also being able to use them for her own self-gain. Such as her relationship with the doctor.

The woman had settled herself at a makeshift table, opening up the laptop Q didn't remember her having when they first got to the warehouse. In fact, it looked suspiciously like Dawson's laptop. She had taken it from Dawson's bag while the doctor continued to reset the breaks.

"What are you doing?" she asked, moving over to hover closer by Marina. She didn't even pause in her typing, eyes never leaving the screen.

"I am making sure whoever got that notification of the silent alarm you idiots tripped doesn't find you." she responded airily, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Q resisted an eye roll. Confidence rolled off her in waves, not unlike how Dawson was whenever he was in front of his laptop doing something similar. Which meant now she had to deal with two asshole, egomaniacal, computer geniuses.

"Gee thanks." she droned out, grip shifting on the gun she was holding against her chest. Marina smirked, but continued on with whatever she was doing on the laptop.

"You don't believe me." she stated instead of asking which made Q pause. The beat of silence was enough of an answer for her as she turned the laptop around to show Q what she was doing.

The lines of code meant nothing to Q, but, unlike Dawson, Marina was quick to explain in a way that she would understand. Basically, if and when anyone tried to trace back to location would be bounced to a dummy source in a completely different country. She wasn't sure how Marina did it, but she was grateful she wasn't going to have to worry about Steve or Nat finding them quite yet.

"Thank you." she gave her a tight smile and a small nod after the explanation was finished. Marina nodded, turning the laptop back to her and leaning back in her chair.

"You don't trust me, do you?" that was the question that should've been a statement. Q was pretty sure she had made it quite obvious that she didn't trust Marina. The only reason they had followed her to the doctor was because they were desperate and it was their only option.

"No." she answered with a slight raise of her chin. Why lie? She didn't know the woman and Dawson barely knew her as well. Marina showing up out of the blue with a fix to both of their problems was more than a little unnerving to Q. Especially considering it was right after they had gone to the Hydra base where they had supposedly tripped a silent alarm that only Marina was able to fix.

"Listen, I get it." Marina put her hands up after she had finished voicing her thoughts as to why she didn't trust the woman, "I wouldn't trust me either -"

"Then why are you trying to make a case to show we should?" she cut her off sharply, wanting to get straight to the point.

"Because you need me." she answered with a slight shrug, repeating what she had said earlier, "With D-bag out of commission and you knowing nothing about this -" she gestured to the computer, "You're gonna need someone to help you track down whoever you're trying to find. I have connections with people you're not going to like, but are going to need in the long run." Again, she was making the same case she had made before they had left for the doctor. Q fixed her with a look, not finding that it was enough.

"You'll have to do better than that." she kept her voice even, "Just because we need you, doesn't mean we have to trust you."

"I don't need you to trust me." Marina let out a slight laugh and shook her head.

"So then why are you here? Why are you helping us and sticking around?" she asked, keeping eye contact with the other woman for a long beat of silence before her eyes shifted over to where Dawson was passed out. Q followed her line of vision, half listening to her and half focusing on how the doctor was wiggling Dawson's fingers around to try and replace them correctly compared to his other hand.

"I have been trying to track him down for a long time. Ever since he disappeared actually." she admitted with a raise of her eyebrows, "And so when that alarm went off and I had an actual source, I wasn't going to let that go." she finished with a shrug and an almost sad smile. Q glanced back at the woman only to study her for a moment, trying to figure out if she was lying or not. Her eyes met Q's for a moment more before dropping down to her lap where she tangled her fingers together, quietly adding, "He didn't tell anyone about me." she lifted her head up to look at her again, "Didn't sell me out or anything like that when SHIELD took him. And he very well could've. So I feel like I owe him one." she nodded, raising her eyebrows up, "I guess that's why I'm here." she ended with a sigh. A brief moment of humanity and heart chipped at Q's automatic distrust for her, though not enough to completely melt it away.

"Well, he can be a good guy when he wants to be." Q agreed with a shift in her stance. Her eyes moved over to where the doctor was finishing with Dawson's hand. And while she certainly didn't trust Marina quite yet, she understood where she was coming from. A debt needed to be repaid and if that meant they would have an extra hand or two to help out, then so be it.

After Dawson woke up and his hand was reset and stabilized, the doctor gave them a prescription for painkillers and antibiotics along with strict instructions for Dawson to follow to make sure the bones healed correctly. It would take upwards of two months until he could use his hand like he did before the break. Obviously, he wasn't happy with the diagnosis, but he had to admit it did feel better than it had before.

The sun was rising while the group made their way back to the motel. It had been a long night. From Hydra infiltration to a smashed hand to surprise guests, the night had felt like three days combined into one. The last time either one of them had gone this long without sleep was months prior when SHIELD collapsed. That felt like a lifetime ago compared to what they were dealing with currently.

Only stopping at the pharmacy to fill Dawson's prescriptions, the three made it back to the motel without any issues. A small breakfast of day old pastries and microwaveable meals was put together as they all found various spots around the small room to sit or lay.

"So what now?" Marina asked after a moment of silence, staring up at the popcorn ceiling of the motel room. Letting out matching sighs, Q and Dawson exchanged a look before Dawson answered her,

"Not much, probably. The two of us gotta at least get out of town before anyone traces that alarm back to us." she waved her hand in the air, looking unconcerned.

"I took care of that when you were passed out at the doctor's." she took a bite of her pastry before continuing, "We don't have to worry about that anymore."

"Oh, so it's a  _we_  now." he asked, eyebrows raising up. She sat up on her elbows, giving him an amused smirk before her eyes flitted over to Q momentarily then returned to him,

"I'm not leaving now, Dawson. Not when you're out a hand and need to stay three steps ahead of whoever you're running from."

"We're not running." Q cut in sharply, jaw clenching at the insinuation that they were running from Steve and Nat. They weren't. They were just...avoiding them.

"Fine, fine." she raised her hands up, not wanting to get into a fight, "But still. You'll need help."

"And you're offering your services?" he sounded unconvinced, "For what price?" he asked the important question, but she laughed a little as if it were a ridiculous question.

"No price." making Dawson scoff in disbelief. She kept what she had told Q to herself, already have one heartfelt moment to fill up her queue for the month. Q hid the upward tug of her lips behind a bite of her microwaved egg muffin. Seemed like, for whatever reason, the woman didn't want Dawson to know that she felt indebted to him. Pride maybe. Or maybe just wanting to look like she was better than him. But Q knew the truth - or at least part of it.

"But," Marina continued, "it would be easier to help if I knew who exactly we were looking for." her gaze flitted in between the two friends, eyebrows raising ever so slightly. Almost challenging them to try and weasel their way out of an explanation again. Dawson glanced over to Q, silently wondering if she was okay with telling the other woman the details of their quasi-manhunt. They communicated silently for a moment: eye contact, slight head tilts and shakes before Q sighed and turned to Marina, taking the lead on explaining it.

"James Buchanan Barnes." she responded curtly, "Otherwise known as the Winter Soldier." she shifted in her seat, leg crossing over her other knee. Marina's eyes widened slightly at the name; she had heard the name before in conversation with a few of her...clients.

The Winter Soldier was rumored to be one of the world's most dangerous ghosts, haunting those who were a threat to Hydra's bigger plans. At one point, she half-expected him to come after her, which was what spurred her relationships with people who were in the good graces of the Nazi organization.

"And why are you so interested in finding him?" she asked trying to cover up her reaction with innocent curiosity, not realizing Q had caught it.

"He shot my ex-girlfriend." Dawson immediately answered. It wasn't the true reason they were after Bucky, but it wasn't a full lie either. Q cleared her throat, making him sigh and add on, "And Q." Marina perked an eyebrow, smirk tugging at her lips as her attention shifted,

" _Ex-_ girlfriend, huh?" she asked, much more interested in that tidbit than the reason behind their search. He rolled his eyes,

"Not the point." he muttered out before fixing her with a serious look, "But that's who we're looking for."

"And by starting with Hydra," Q continued with a raise of her hand, "we're hoping to figure out his timeline, what he did and why, and hopefully it'll lead us to him." she was banking on her abilities she gained at her time in SHIELD to help her find a pattern of some sort or something that was a constant in his past that he would return to in the present time. Something familiar, whether it be a basic action/reaction, a person, place or routine. If they could find it, then maybe it would lead them to where he ended up after that day on the shore of the Potomac.

"What did you find here?" Marina asked, trying to get more information. Q reached over into the bag on the table, snaking her hand in and grabbing the journal she had taken from the locked desk drawer.

"We haven't gotten the chance to look through what was on the database, but there's a full notebook of information in here." she explained, "I mean we can't translate all of it, but -" before she could finish, Marina had gotten up from the bed she was sprawled on to take the book from Q's not so tight grasp, "...'Kay." she glanced over to Dawson who simply raised his hand up and then let it drop in an exasperated manner; that was just who Marina was apparently. Lacking in some social skills like most kids who grew up doing nothing but hacking into servers and corporations for hours on hours. Both watched as she flipped through the first few pages, reading the entries.

"What's the  _Soldier Program_?" she asked, looking up from the notebook, understanding the language it was written in but not what was referenced. Getting up from her chair, Q moved to take the notebook from her.

"It's a Hydra experiment series. During the second world war, they used Bucky - James as a test subject for a super soldier serum." she explained what she knew, which wasn't a lot, but she had put the pieces together during their time both in DC and in Dnipropetrovsk.

"Like Captain America." Marina offered a similar comparison, not noticing how Q's grip on the notebook tightened at the casual mention of him. Of course she would know about Steve - he wasn't just an  _American_  superhero; he was the  _world's_ first superhero. But, not wanting to give away face, she nodded and Marina pulled down the corners of her mouth, thinking to herself for a moment, "Is this program still going on?"

"I have no idea." she sighed, putting the book back on the table, "My hope is that since SHIELD collapsed, so did Hydra but…"

"That's wishful thinking." Dawson cut in with a sigh. Marina nodded like she understood. Her eyes flicked to the book before glancing over the other's faces.

"Where do you think you'll go next?" she asked, slightly changing the subject and bringing the conversation back to where it started.

"Odessa." Dawson leaned forward in his chair, resting his arms on his thighs. Before Marina could ask why, he continued, "It's the most recent, last place he visited that we know of. Shot my ex there too." he stared off at a point on the bed as if putting the two together.

"Wow, he must really hate your ex." Marina joked, placing her hands on her hips. Neither one of the other two laughed. The amused smirk from her face dropped and she ended up crossing her arms over her chest instead of leaving them on her hips, "Okay, yeah, Odessa. I can go through my contacts and see if I can find anyone who knows anything." Marina nodded to herself as she thought over what the two had divulged. Though she didn't know the full story - what with Q's familial relationship with him or personal connection, she knew enough for the time being. And it was enough for her to have some insight into what their next steps should be. In response, she got matching nods from the other two.

Even if Q didn't fully trust Marina yet, it would be good to have someone on their side who knew people. Odessa was their last original lead and it wasn't really a full lead to begin with. Just one from a late night pillow talk between Nat and Dawson about some scientist Bucky had been tasked to shoot and kill. And after they found out the full story, that would be it; there probably wouldn't be much to go off from there.

But with Marina's help, maybe they could find something more than just dead ends and abandoned bunkers.

* * *


	55. a big, fat ukrainian wedding

Their situation in Odessa was already ten times better than in Dnipropetrovsk. Using some money from one of his bank accounts under that was hidden under a false name, Dawson was able to get them a real place to stay rather than a shoddy motel room. Located on a semi-private beach, their closest neighbors weren't for multiple kilometers. No one would come knocking or wondering what the group was doing there. The house itself was bigger than Q's parent's house, letting each of them have their own space instead of sharing a small hotel room with twin beds.

For the first few weeks, it was all about settling in. Dawson set up their security system for the house, along with some added bonuses littered around the shoreline to let them know if and when anyone was getting a little too close. Having only one working hand, it did take him a bit, but he got it done (and was even more proud of himself than usual). Marina searched for her contact in Odessa - someone who had ties with Hydra back in the day, but had turned his life around since then, or so he claimed. And Q stuck to following the lead Natasha had unintentionally given them about Bucky.

As expected, the lead went cold with the dead engineer. There was no information on where Bucky had disappeared to after. In fact, it turned out no one even knew he was there to begin with. The official report had chalked it up to a motorcycle accident, despite the engineer dying from a fatal gunshot wound, not from the impact of the crash.

Newspapers and online articles were full of skeptics. Few claiming they had seen the scene, mentioning another woman with red hot hair facing off against a man with a metal arm. The scanned and copied report of the autopsy popping up here and there that listed a Soviet slug with no rifling. But every author she tracked down or commenter she emailed claimed they had no further information that would be helpful. Which meant, no Bucky.

A part of her was sort of glad Marina had showed up when she did. If she hadn't, both her and Dawson would be stuck in Odessa with no idea what the next steps would be. Sure they had access to the Hydra database, but even that was old and probably contained more dead ends or heartbreaking information about Bucky or other victims of the program. Nothing that could really help them. All that time and energy and sacrifice would've been wasted. Not to mention that Bucky would probably be getting further and further away from them, solidifying the fact that it had all been for nothing. But with Marina's help, there was at least another option, another chance at finding him. Which was all Q could ask for, really.

When she first decided to go after Bucky, she didn't really know what she was going to do  _when_  she found him or even  _why_  she was going. In the beginning, she had convinced herself she was doing this -  _finding_  him for Steve. The lost brother and friend come home.

The reason she kept it such a secret from him and left so abruptly was because of what happened that day on the causeway. She didn't know what state or how she would find Bucky and she wasn't about to subject Steve to even more pain if it turned out that he wasn't himself again. Selfish, yes, but as the months went on she realized she wasn't doing it for him. She was doing it for herself.

A part of her just wanted to find him and prove that what she read in her grandmother's diary was true: that he was in fact her brother - making him Q's grand-uncle. The moment the two shared on the edge of the riverbank altered her life. Enough to send her on a wild goose hunt chase to find him. Simply enough, she wanted to find Bucky because he was her family. And all she wanted from him was answers. Or stories rather. Stories about the grandmother she thought she knew so well. And obviously, she wasn't going to get them from her dead grandmother, and she rather not go to her asshole of a father. Meaning a previously brainwashed, ex-Hydra assassin was her next best bet to hear them. If he even remembered. But that was a problem for another day. First they needed to find him.

"I found him!" Marina sang out, referring to her contact in Odessa. She walked into the main living area while balancing her laptop on one forearm. Looking up from where she was reading about the dead engineer, Q watched as she moved over to the island in the kitchen. "He's going to an event happening on Sunday afternoon." she shoulder shimmied, clearly proud of herself for finding her contact. She took an apple from the basket, tossing it between her hands as Dawson got her attention.

"What kind of event?" he asked, leaning back in his chair. He raised his injured hand in the air above his head to relieve some of the throbbing pain. It had been a few weeks since the original injury and resetting, but he still obviously had to deal with the after effects. She made a face and shrugged.

"Don't know. All I got was a time and place from an email thread." she glanced over to Q, looking for support, "I mean, that's all we need, right?" she asked, trying to be confident, but Q could tell there was a hint of uncertainty.

"No, yeah, it's fine." she waved her hand in the air, getting up from her chair, "We should probably just come up with different plans of confrontation." she went over to one of the many giant notepads littered around the beach house. Dawson let out a groan as he always did when Q went into planning mode. Mostly because of the amount of  _overplanning_  she did (although ironically,  _didn't_  do when starting this adventure).

The next few days, the group spent planning. It was decided that Marina would be making contact with the man, since the man already knew her and would therefore be more trusting and hopefully forthcoming with information. Dawson would be going with her to make sure she didn't do anything stupid or sell them out or anything like that. And Q would be keeping watch from a building across the street, sniper rifle in hand and ready if necessary. Though everyone was hoping it wouldn't come to that; all they needed was information and that could be gotten through a simple conversation.

That was the theme of the entire plan they had decided on: simple. Easy, a quick one-on-two and then out like they were never there. No one needed to know who Dawson was or what exactly they were trying to do regarding Hydra. Just the basics.

But of course, it couldn't ever be simple anymore.

Dawson and Marina got out of the car they had taken to the house. Both had comm pieces in their ears to connect them to Q since she wasn't presently beside them. While Dawson looked down the street to make sure Q picked the best vantage point to begin with, Marina took in the massive mansion they were heading into. She let out an unimpressed noise, pulling Dawson's attention from where he searched for Q's scope.

"What?" he asked, making her shrug.

"Seen bigger." she simply responded and he rolled his eyes instead of immediately following after her down the marked trail.

Walking past the front of the house, the cobblestone walkway was decorated with paper lanterns, strung in between tall, skinny, wooden columns. The bushes and smaller trees had lights woven between the branches that would surely light up once the sun set. Even before they walked into the backyard, the soft sounds of a harp and violin drifted their way. The music mingled with the chattering of whatever group was meeting at the mansion.

As soon as they stepped into the backyard, the entire atmosphere shifted. The music changed, the chattering stopped and everyone turned around in their chairs to look directly at Marina and Dawson. Everyone was in nice suits or fancy dresses, making Dawson and Marina feel extremely underdressed. Both of them froze in their places - Marina's eyes darting around to place her contact, while Dawson awkwardly fidgeted with his collar. Sharing a quick look with Dawson, she glanced over her shoulder to follow everyone's line of vision.

"Oh shit." she muttered out, grabbing Dawson's arm and making him turn. Standing behind them was her contact, arm in arm with a young woman in a big white dress. A bride.

" _It's a fucking wedding."_ Q's voice breathed out in Dawson's comm.

"Yeah, no shit." he muttered back, annoyed that none of them had been able to figure that out. "A big, fat, Ukrainian wedding."

Quickly, Marina pulled Dawson off to the side, finding two empty seats in the last row. With the aisle re-opened, the bride and her father started down to the altar at the end. When he passed them, the death glare Marina received made Dawson think they weren't as friendly as he assumed. But there was nothing they could do right then and there.

All things considered, the ceremony itself was beautiful. Even though it wasn't being held in a church like most traditional weddings, there were still the same elements present. Marina did her best to quietly explain to both Dawson and Q what the couple was doing and why. Like how before the couple took their vows, both needed to step on the rushnyk, which was a traditional embroidered cloth. According to tradition, the person who stepped on the cloth first would be wearing the pants in the family, and have the final say throughout the marriage. A warm  _awh_  noise mingled with quiet laughs through the crowd when the groom let the bride step on the rushnyk first.

The rest of the ceremony was similar to American weddings. Vows were exchanged, rings were slipped onto fingers, blessings were given. But before the couple was announced as husband and wife, their hands were wrapped together in ribbon during a tradition called handfasting. A literal representation of tying the knot.

After the ceremony, the wedding party and guests made their way across the massive backyard spread to where the reception was being held. Not wanting to lose their mark, Dawson and Marina followed along. Giant, almost circus-like, tents were set up at the with more of the paper lanterns and string lights. Inside the tents were tables covered with long, cream cloths and in the center were long vines of green leaves decorated with soft, pastel colored flowers. Servers were walking around, filling everyone's flutes with champagne. Food was set up on one side of the tent, along with a massive wedding cake that Marina explained was the korovai: a large round braided bread baked from wheat flour often decorated with various symbols and figurines that was given to the bride and groom as a blessing.

"There he is." Marina pulled his attention away from the massive cake to follow where she was pointing across the tent. The man that had dead-eyed them during the ceremony was now chatting with someone else, holding a flute of champagne and gesturing with his other hand as he continued the conversation.

Heading toward him, Marina picked up two flutes of champagne. She handed one to Dawson, who reached for it with his broken hand before remembering to switch hands. He took a sip as they stepped up to the man, Marina starting the conversation.

"Oleksander," she greeted him warmly, "Vitayu." she congratulated him. Raising her flute to him, she ignored the steely look he was giving her. When he didn't immediately tap his glass against hers, she tipped hers against his instead, creating the light sound, "It was a beautiful ceremony." she continued in Ukrainian.

"How dare you come here on a day like today." he didn't acknowledge her statement, getting straight to the point, "Don't you have any class?" he all about spat out. Dawson raised his eyebrows, understanding what direction the conversation suddenly took. Q let out a low whistle in his comm,

" _I don't think he likes that you guys are there…"_ she trailed off and Dawson had to force himself not to respond with a cheeky comment. No need to give away that there was someone else listening in. Instead, he pulled himself up a bit straighter, narrowing his eyes at the man and trying to look intimidating even with the broken hand.

"Oh, Oleksander, I would've known if I had gotten an invitation." Marina pouted, giving him the same look she had given Dawson when she first showed up, "Would've brought a gift and everything." Oleksander looked unamused by her comment.

"What do you want?" he got straight to the point, clearly not wanting to be seen talking to either of them for a long period of time. Cause that would mean questions he didn't want to answer.

"Just wanted to chat, catch up." she shrugged as if it were no big deal, "You are one of my favorites, Oleksander." she reached out to fix his tie and Dawson tried not to roll his eyes at how she was acting. And clearly, Oleksander wasn't convinced either; he moved away from her touch, almost glaring at her as he repeated himself,

"I paid you." he added, glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention to them, "Our business is finished." At that, Marina had the audacity to let out a light laugh, not caring about the obvious tension that was between the two of them.

"This isn't about money!" she shook her head, a smile on her face, "No, no this is about information." Again, another step closer, "On Hydra." she leaned in to whisper the word in his ear, the English word accented from the sudden switch from Ukrainian.

At the mention of Hydra, the man's entire demeanor changed. If he was pissed to see them before, he was even  _more_ angry at the mention of Hydra. His grip on his champagne flute tightened so much so that Dawson was sure he was going to break it. He swallowed hard, features shifting

"Enough." he seethed out, "I am not playing whatever little game you want me to. Especially on a day like today." he pointed at Marina with his free hand, "Leave. Before a scene is made." he finished the conversation with that, turning and walking away from the two of them. Rolling his shoulders back, he went over to another group of people, throwing his arms wide as he let out a booming laugh. Like he hadn't just had a very tense conversation with Marina about Hydra.

"That went well." Dawson muttered under his breath as he lifted his champagne flute to his lips. Marina cursed at him in Ukrainian just loud enough for him to hear before stalking away to the bar.

" _So what now?"_ Q asked in his ear. He turned away from where Marina was, pulling out his phone as if he were checking his texts.

"Just wait it out, I guess. Wait till he's alone and then corner him." he responded, idly scrolling through his phone.

" _Alright."_ he heard her sigh and some sounds of movement, giving way to the fact that she was changing positions to some other vantage point.

Unmounting her rifle, Q picked up her weaponry so she could move to another spot on the roof. For the entire ceremony, she had watched from her spot, switching between her scope and her binoculars. But, now that everyone had moved inside the tents for the reception, her view was limited thanks to the giant, opaque cloths. She wanted to have a better position, one where she could keep an eye on both the man Marina had interacted with as well as Marina and Dawson. The conversation didn't go as planned, which meant adjustments needed to be made. She needed to be ready for them, rifle and all.

Setting herself back up on a different part of the roof, she took a glance through her scope. The butt of the gun was pressed up against her shoulder: one hand gently guiding the gun back and forth so she could sweep the general area, the other steadying the end of the gun and resting by the trigger.

From her new position, she could see that the party was in full swing. People were mingling, the korovai had been cut into, drinks were flowing. And Marina and Dawson were sitting at a random table. No one seemed to be bothered by them or really take any interest in them at all, not even wondering what they were doing there. All they  _were_  doing anyway was talking to each other. She would usually try to listen, but she was more focused on placing their mark. He had seemed agitated when Marina approached him and rightfully so; who would want someone crashing their daughter's wedding? Especially someone who knew all of his dirty little secrets he so obviously kept from his family.

But he didn't seem like the type to do anything rash or have an outburst because of it. While Dawson and Marina just saw the anger and the general annoyance at them confronting him, Q saw that terror lurked just below the surface. Terror that  _Marina_ would be the one to make a scene and cause him to have to explain it. Which meant explaining everything. And from what Q could tell, he really didn't want to do that and ruin whatever guise he had been wearing in front of his family and friends.

That didn't mean he would do nothing about them. He might just get someone else to handle it. Which was why, a minute later, when she caught sight of him staring angrily at the table Dawson and Marina were at before hurriedly heading away from the party and into the house, she pressed down on her comm to contact Dawson and Marina.

"He's heading inside the house." she quickly told them, moving her scope over one last time to make sure the other two had heard her. They had; getting up from their seats and both hurrying out of the tent.

With him disappearing inside, she was forced to unmount her gun again to find a new spot that allowed her to see inside the house so she knew exactly where he went. Clicking on the heat sensors on her binoculars, she did a quick scan of the house, grateful that mostly everyone was outside at the party. Following his path, she saw that he was heading toward one of the rooms in the left wing.

She relayed this information to Marina and Dawson and found a new position on the roof. It was diagonal from the window that led into the room he had been heading for. Not a great position, but enough to see from the waist up so she could keep an eye on the confrontation that was about to happen and react if it went poorly.

Relocking her gun against the mount and pressing it up against her shoulder, she lowered her sight through the scope only to find the room completely empty. She waited a moment, thinking he would walk in any second, but the only people to run into the room were Marina and Dawson.

" _Oh fuck me."_  Dawson's voice crackled over her comm. He stepped over to the center of the room, dropping out of sight for a moment only for his voice to fill her ear once again, " _He's dead."_ he sighed dejectedly.

"How the fu-" she started, already trying to piece together what happened in the mere minutes she had lost sight of the man. It didn't make sense. She hadn't heard a gunshot or any screaming whatsoever. Nor was there a sign of anyone following him into the house beside Dawson and Marina.

Getting up from where he had been crouched over the dead guy, Dawson took a quick glance around the room they had ended up in. It was an office of some sort, decked out to the tens cause of course it was. While Marina took his spot crouched next to the dead guy, Dawson went to go investigate. He didn't know what he was looking for but since the guy had been so angry when they brought up Hydra, there had to be  _something_ they could use to their advantage. The database hack from the bunker could only get them so far.

Going through his desk, Dawson found that one of the drawers had a fake bottom. He took everything out rather unceremoniously before prying it up with his better hand. Balancing the fake bottom on his casted forearm, he began rifling through what was hidden and found a black external hard drive with Hydra's logo stamped on the front. The red a sharp contrast against the dark black. It may not have been how they thought it would happen, but at least they had gotten something from the now-dead guy.

After putting the desk drawer back together, Dawson quickly led them out of the house. There was no reason for them to stay at the reception and the last thing they needed was to get caught in a room with a dead guy who happened to have ties with Hydra.

The group reconvened at the beach house, all with different ideas on what to do next. Q wanted to figure out who killed the man - or at least rule out that someone  _had_. Not every dead guy meant murder; it could've been a freak heart attack after all. Dawson wanted to decode the black box and see what was on it. Marina was more concerned about her own well-being than anything else; if someone had killed her contact, was she next? Or what about her other clients and contacts finding out that she had been at the scene of the crime? It would ruin her credibility.

Ultimately, it was decided the black box should take precedence. They wouldn't be able to find out anything about the man's death until he was found and taken to the morgue - where hopefully an autopsy would be performed. Also, the decoding the black box was bigger than Marina's so-called-career, who probably had nothing to worry about to begin with.

Adjusting a shell program he had already come up with, Dawson set to work on decoding the black box. But since he still only was able to use one hand, Marina offered to step in. A reminder of why she was still around. With Marina at the keys and Dawson pretty much standing on top of her to make sure she didn't fuck up his code or any of his operating systems, they were able to modify the program so that it would run through all variables automatically.

From there, it was a waiting game. That's how it had been since they started: hurry up and wait. Marina wandered off to a different part of the house with her laptop in hand, no doubt to make sure all of her other clients hadn't connected her to what happened at the wedding. Dawson and Q ended up on the couch with semi-celebratory drinks in hand. Semi-celebratory because while someone ended up dead, it wasn't them. Plus they had gotten the Hydra black box.

"I mean a guy's dead, but at least we got something." she voiced her thoughts with a gesture to where the three screens were running the program. He nodded in agreement, taking a sip of his drink, "And we didn't kill him, so…" she added, trailing off again before coming back, "And there was a beautiful wedding." she raised her eyebrows up and nodded to herself.

"All correct things." he agreed before tapping the rim of his glass against hers. Both were quiet for a moment, thinking about the day they had had, "You ever think about getting married?" he suddenly asked aloud, finger trailing around his glass on the table. Q was silent for a long moment. Long enough for Dawson to look over and make sure she heard him, "Q?" he checked in, hearing her take in a breath.

"I heard you." she responded before going quiet again, but for a much shorter moment, "I...don't know." she answered his original question, "I thought I would at some point...when I was with...you know." she admitted, not being able to say his name because of the way it strained her heart, "But I don't know anymore. Probably not." she let out a resigned sigh before taking a long sip of her drink.

That first part was true; at one point, during the brief time she had spent with Steve so deliriously in love, she really did think that she could marry him one day. She never felt like that before with anyone else. But then she went and ruined it when she left. Now, she was sure she would never find something like what she had with Steve ever again. Not that she deserved to either.

The question made her regret ever leaving in the first place. She had left to chase a haunting. One that could turn right back into a ghost story as easily as it had years before. She had left under the guise of doing it for Steve, when in reality she was doing it for herself. She had made the most selfish choice and it cost her one of the best things that had ever happened to her. And sometimes, she wasn't sure it was worth it anymore.

But she couldn't go back. She wasn't allowed to. She had made her choice and now had to live with the consequences, no matter how shitty they were. And maybe one day, in the distant future, he would understand why she had done what she done. Probably not. Yet, sometimes it was the one of the only things keeping her going. A futile hope.

"What about you?" she asked, taking in a breath and shifting the attention on Dawson. He let out a short laugh.

"God, no." he let his laugh die before taking a sip of his drink, "And it's not like anyone would anyway…" he trailed off, sounding similar to how Q did moments before. Both of them were in the same boat, but he by choice. He didn't have to come along with her - he chose to. And while a part of her felt guilty for ripping him away from whatever future he could've had with Nat, she couldn't blame herself fully. In the end, it was his choice.

"Oh come on, I saw a bridesmaid making eyes at you…" she trailed off teasingly, trying to lighten the depressive mood they were slipping into. After the semi-successful night they had, there was no need for that. He let out a scoff and shook his head.

"You need to get your eyes checked." he shot her down, pushing himself up out of his seat, "Another?" he asked with a shake of his not yet empty glass. Q sighed before nodding, getting from the couch and meeting him at the bar cart.

Drinking was better than drowning in the  _what if's._


	56. five stages of grief

Her hand reached across the table, comfortably settling into his. Fingers wrapping around his hand, she let her thumb roll around the knuckle of his finger. At the motion, he glanced down at the way their hands were intertwined. He wasn't expecting it, but it certainly wasn't unwelcomed. It was warm and soft, but had a bit of strength beneath it that he knew she had.

"How've you been?" her voice got his attention and his eyes shifted up to her face to meet her warm, sort of curious smile. Like she was genuinely wondering how he had been over the past several months. It had been such a long time since someone had asked him that, that for a moment, he didn't know how to respond.

His immediate instinct was to lie and say he was fine. Cause physically he was, not emotionally though. But then he remembered all the times Q would ask him a similar question and how good it felt afterward when he ended up telling the truth. He wondered if it would still feel the same even though she wasn't the one asking the question.

"Honestly?" he answered her question with another question and a slight eyebrow raise. His tone was enough to make her laugh a little, thinking it was a joke, but he had never been more serious.

"Of course." she shifted in her chair, arm folding across the table and hand coming to lay against her other forearm. Her hand was still holding his, thumb still softly running over his knuckle. She gave him a kind smile, one that reached her eyes. "It's been a minute since we talked." she reminded him with a slight downtilt of her chin. He couldn't help but let out a small scoff.

"Well, a lot's happened since then." he heaved a heavy sigh as if trying to exhale the weight of everything that had settled on his shoulders after the events that happened the last time he was in DC. He used his free hand to twist his coffee cup against the table so he could grab it by the handle and take a sip, "How's the Agency?" he asked, shifting the attention onto her.  _Deflect and redirect._ Q's voice echoed in the back of his head. But if Sharon knew what he was doing, she didn't comment - answering his question with a brief summary about her new life in the CIA: similar to SHIELD, but with more rules and she might be getting a promotion soon.

"If you're ever in the mood to join the team, just let me know." she offered after finished talking about her time there. He gave her a slight smile,

"I'm on  _quite_  the team already." he referenced the Avengers without name-dropping them. She gave him a smile and a nod, "But thank you." he added with a slight lean forward, not wanting her to think he was ungrateful. He wasn't, but after what happened at SHIELD there was also no way he would ever be working for a government organization again. Thankfully, the Avengers operated on their own which meant they could help the people that  _really_ needed help or go after the things that were  _actually_ threats.

For a while, the conversation between them was easy and simple. Basic catching up topics were discussed, mainly focused on her and her life. What she was doing at the agency, how the clean-up was going from the Triskelion falling, and even the weather. But he still hadn't answered her original question. Which she ended up bringing up again when the conversation dried out.

"I feel like we've spent all this time talking about me, but you still haven't told me how you're doing or  _what_  you're doing." she reminded him from behind her coffee mug. A caught smile spread across his face while he glanced away from her for a moment, taking in the DC coffee shop they had been sitting in for over an hour.

Originally, he had come to DC to visit Peggy. It had been a while since he had seen her last; he had gotten so caught up with finding Q that he let other things fall to the wayside. But since coming to terms with the fact that she wasn't coming home, he realized he had ignored a lot of other important things. Like Peggy.

Their visit was one of the good ones. Thankfully. He wouldn't know what he would do if he had caught her on a bad day. It was nice to be able to talk to her about things that didn't concern Q or what happened that day on the Potomac. Just a normal conversation between two old (pun intended) friends.

Running into Sharon was a surprise - mostly cause he didn't realize she had stayed in DC. He knew that after SHIELD collapsed, she went to work with the CIA, but didn't know where they had ended up stationing her. She had just happened to be at the same coffee shop he had gone into at the same time he was. It was a coffee shop that he had never been in before, wanting to avoid the ones he and Q had visited while they lived in the city.  _Of course,_ it would be the same one that Sharon so happened to be in. And she finally took him up on his offer to get that cup of coffee together.

It had been nice to hang out with her and talk - even if he had done more of the listening. A different kind of nice than the nice that his conversation with Peggy had brought: a more modern kind of nice. He had forgotten what it could be like to hang out with someone who was the same age as he was (not his "real" age of ninety-five, but the age he looked and felt). The only other person he had really hung out with over the past several months was Nat. If you could consider it "hanging out." Both of them really just were working together to find their exes. Most of their conversation revolved around supposed sightings or code that looked similar to Dawson's. Sometimes there would be late night talks about heartbreak and betrayal when Nat had a little too much to drink and Steve was in an emotionally fragile state - which had happened often over the months. Both of them wallowing together in their shared misery of losing loved ones for no real reason except they wanted to go somewhere else.

Ever since SHIELD fell and Q disappeared on him, he had been balancing Avengers work with looking for her. He thought it would be easy to find her; she never came off as one who was good at staying off the grid and out of the public eye. But she was - never once coming up on any security cameras or anything that could be traced back to a location. Her cellphone was still active, but she never picked it up making it so he couldn't track her.

While he knew that she had experience with basic security measures (like when she broke them into the dance studio in Brooklyn), he knew she didn't possess the skills to do something as advanced as that. Then he learned that Dawson had gone along with her, which made all of it make sense. He was the one keeping them hidden, making it all the more difficult to find them.

But it wasn't like he gave up that easy. He had spent six months trying to find any clue that could lead him to where she was. He re-read the letter she left him thousands of times - the paper stained with coffee, food and his tears, looking for some sort of explanation as to why she left. There wasn't anything like that; if there was, he would've had her back by then.

Six months was a long time. Enough time for him to start to properly grieve what had happened to him. Maybe not in the correct linear way that most people did: starting with denial, anger, bargaining, depression and ending with acceptance, but he was working through it. In the beginning, he flitted between a few at a time, never really focusing on one or another. He had left her countless voicemails, all ranging from bargaining to anger to even ones where he just kinda sat there and thought about what he wanted to say but ended up saying nothing.

Slowly, he started to get stuck in the stages. Denial came first; there were a lot of sleepless nights, or nights when he thought she was back - only to reach over in the middle of the night and feel nothing but bedsheets. Or mornings when he went through his routine and accidentally bought two breakfast sandwiches instead of one. Those little moments hurt the most, where he momentarily forgot she had left him.

Bargaining followed shortly after. He found himself leaving voicemails on her cell phone trying to convince her to come home. Even at one point praying to God, which he immediately felt bad about; his mother's scolding voice in the back of his head:  _God doesn't give us more than we can handle._  But honestly? The Guy owed him one.

Far from the acceptance stage, but finally moving out of the denial and bargaining stages, Steve didn't know where he would end up next in the grieving process. But he had to admit, he was able to deal with those two because of the time he had spent with her and learning how to deal with this sort of stuff. The self-imposed guilt, the grief and the anxiety that came with it. He managed to work his way through her leaving him. Even though it hurt. Even though he still wanted nothing more than to find her and hopefully get an explanation as to why she had left. Even though he still loved her.

"Uh, I've still been dealing with figuring out where Q went." he ended up admitting, turning his attention to the empty plate that once house a piece of coffee cake they had shared earlier. His brow furrowed a bit as he felt that familiar tug of pain in his gut when he mentioned Q's name. That was one thing that hadn't went away with time and he wasn't sure it ever would.

"You still haven't heard from her?" Sharon asked, looking concerned, but he noticed how she pulled her hand away from his at the mention. She acted like she was going to pick up her coffee cup, but he knew it was long since emptied.

"No," he sighed out, sitting back in his seat and rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, "You haven't, have you?" he felt bad asking, but he wanted to know. If she had contacted Sharon then at least that meant she was alive.

"I haven't." she shook her head, dispelling the small hope he held in Q reaching out to her former co-worker and friend. "I'm sorry, Steve. I would tell you if I had." she assured him with a sympathetic smile. He responded with a small, understanding smile of his own, pairing it with a nod before looking down at where his hands fell into his lap.

"I know, Sharon. Thank you." he quietly said, feeling like he had ruined the moment by bringing up his ex-girlfriend. Still, she took it in stride, changing the subject with an ease that reminded him of Q.

"Been on any fun Avengers missions lately?" she asked with a slight smile and motion of her shoulders. He let a small amused scoff escape as he looked up and across the table, noticing how hopeful she looked that he would take her offer of the subject change. Which he did.

After spending another hour at the coffee shop talking with Sharon, he went his separate way from his ex-neighbor-slash-assigned-SHIELD-field-agent and found he still had some time to burn before needing to return to the train station to take a train back from DC to New York.

Wandering around the city, Steve had started walking toward his old apartment building without even knowing it. Almost like it was instinctual. He only paused when he got to the front of his building, realizing where his feet had taken him without him knowing. The building looked exactly the same and there was a tug in his lower abdomen like his body was telling him to go inside. To go home. But that wasn't home anymore - it was just a building.

Turning down the street, he saw the familiar awning of Albert's deli and almost on cue, his stomach rumbled. It had been a long time since he had one of Albert's sandwiches. And since he was in the neighborhood…

The bell above the door chimed as he walked into the deli. It was busy - the time of day perfect for a quick snack or meal. He spotted Albert hastily moving around behind the deli counter as if trying to take care of everyone at the same time. Usually his sons or some high school teens would be helping, but it looked like there wasn't anyone but him.

"Need some help?" Steve asked once he was able to catch the older man's attention. If he was surprised to see Steve, he kept it close to his chest and shook his head.

"No, no, I got it covered." he waved his dish rag at him and went back to making up a sandwich in a rather long line of unfinished orders.

Not liking his answer, Steve took it upon himself to move behind the counter to at least start paying people out. He had been to the deli enough times to know the prices and his job at the market back in the forties was enough for him to know how to work with money. (Though he did get fired there for accidentally telling a woman a crude joke about toilet paper, but that's another story).

No one seemed to stop or mind that Steve was the one paying them out. All were too focused on getting their food and getting back to wherever they had come from. The line moved quickly and both men started working in tandem. Albert didn't seem to mind that Steve had ignored his answer and actually seemed almost relieved to have a little bit of help.

The rush ended as quickly as it started and once it did, the store felt very empty and way too quiet. Steve returned to his proper place on the opposite side of the counter while Albert started to sweep up the floor behind the counter and clean up a little bit of the mess that had been caused by the rush.

"Thank you, son." Albert said after a moment of sweeping, "The morning was so slow, I told the kids to go home and enjoy their Sunday." he let out a little laugh, "Guess I shouldn't've done that." Steve gave him a small smile, hands slipping into the pockets of his jacket.

"Always happy to help, Al." he assured him, wanting him to know that he didn't mind at all. Again, Albert let out a little laugh, almost in disbelief. He set the broom to the side and stepped up to the counter,

"Now, what can I getcha?" he asked, resting his palms on top of the display case.

"The usual'll be fine." Steve nodded and Albert raised his eyebrows, two fingers raising at the same time.

"Two of 'em?" he asked, already sliding down to the breads. He shook his head, fists balling into his pockets; of course Albert would assume two: one of him and one for Q.

"No, just one." At his correction, Albert's brow furrowed. It had been a while since he had seen either of them - they had stopped by several months ago to tell them they were moving to New York so he figured that meant  _together_. But now Steve was standing in his deli, alone, ordering one sandwich.

"Is everything alright?" he asked the kid - even though he knew Steve was the furthest thing from a kid. He took in a deep breath, shoulders raising up and glancing away from the other man as if trying to decide if he should lie or not.

"Uh, we actually broke up." Steve admitted, not wanting to lie to the older man. He had always been a supporter of Steve and Q's relationship, having sandwiches ready to go before they even knew they needed them or making little comments about the two of them together before they were really even together. "Well, she left me." he corrected himself, moving his hand out of his pocket so he could motion with it. Albert couldn't help but laugh, which surprised Steve; that was not the reaction he was expecting.

"Damn that girl." he shook his head while beginning to make Steve's sandwich, "Never learns does she?" he asked rhetorically, mainly to himself, but Steve couldn't help but ask for clarification.

"What do you mean?" Slipping his hands back into his pockets, he followed Albert down the display cases, standing on the other side so they could continue their conversation properly.

"I mean, that girl thinks she doesn't deserve anything good in her life. And whenever she gets it, she tries her damn best to get rid of it. That job, a promotion, dates..." he pointed his knife at Steve, waving it a bit before moving to use it against the chopping board, "I've seen it happen, son. Every time it does, she ends up back in this deli - tellin' me about it. But I hadn't seen her in a while so I thought...and then you show up…" he shook his head, "That girl…" he tsked, disappointed in her lack of character growth. Steve wasn't sure how to respond. What Albert was saying made sense; they had something good - hell they told each other they loved the other, and still Q left without even giving him a proper explanation.

"You miss her?" Albert asked, bringing him back from his thoughts. He made eye contact with the man, who looked like he already knew the answer and just wanted to hear Steve admit it.

"Yeah," he answered with a slight sigh and raise of his eyebrows, "A lot." He did. He didn't realize he could until she was gone for good. When he moved to New York for the few weeks before she had, that was hard. But at least they were still together and he could see and talk to her whenever he wanted. Now, he didn't even know if she was even alive. That was the worst part: not having any idea where she was or if she was okay or if she was feeling the same way he felt. Probably not, since  _she_  had left  _him_.

"You know the saying: if you love something, let it go?" Albert prompted. He nodded in response, knowing how the saying ended:  _if it comes back, it's yours. If it doesn't, it never was_. Dread settled upon his shoulders as he waited for the punchline, "Fuck that saying." Albert shortly finished with a wave of his hand, "Fight for what you love, kid. Don't let it disappear on you." he couldn't help but laugh at Albert's opinion on the phrase that was so heavily used to describe love, "Q's the kinda girl that needs to know that you think she's good enough. So show her. Go after her." he said as if it were that simple. As if Steve hadn't already been doing that for the past several months.

"But I don't know if she wants me to." he admitted. The last thing he wanted to do was force himself back into Q's life if she really didn't want him, "And I'm not sure I can get over what she did." he continued, also semi-admitting it to himself too and working his way into another stage of grief. Anger.

She had left him in the most terrible, heart-breaking of ways. Over the course of the past six months since, he had left voicemail after voicemail trying to convince her to come home and nothing worked. Which, in a way, had made him a bit angrier at her for doing that to him. If she had thought he was too good for her or whatever, she should've talked to him - not just left in the middle of the day with no warning except a six page letter that barely held an explanation.

Albert scoffed, shaking his head as he finished up Steve's sandwich, "Forgive her, kid. Life's too short." he said wisely, but the corners of Steve's mouth twitched; he wondered if Albert knew that life had been very long for Steve. He passed the sandwich over the counter and when Steve went to hand over a bill, he waved him away, "All I want is a promise that you'll try." he raised his eyebrows up, almost challengingly.

"I will." Steve answered after a beat with a slight nod of his head. While his efforts of finding Q had slowed, he hadn't given up completely. And he wasn't about to either, no matter how angry he was becoming with the situation. Albert accepted his answer with a nod of his head, bidding him goodnight and turning to clean up his station.

Stepping out of the deli, he unwrapped his sandwich while he walked to the train station. The conversation with Albert played in his head. He was right, per usual, about his reading of Q and Steve hated that he didn't realize it sooner. For a long time he had thought she was the one that was too good for him. How could she possibly think that he was too good for her?

But Steve wasn't sure he was going to be able to do what Albert wanted him to do: really forgive her. At least until he found her and got some sort of explanation.

* * *


	57. narrow it down

**TW: SLIGHT MENTIONS OF HUMAN TRAFFICKING - Just wanted people to be aware of this before reading.**

* * *

"And that makes three." he sighed, leaning back in his computer chair. Eyes shifting away from the screens he was in front of, he looked over to where Q was standing by with her arms crossed over her chest, "Our boy Bucky is officially killing known Hydra associates." he reached for his energy drink with his better hand even though the cast had finally come off a few days prior. Or rather, he  _ripped_  it off with a knife a few days prior, claiming enough time had passed and the bones were healed – even though he still refused to use it since it still pained him.

"And we're sure it's him?" she asked, motioning with her hand. Dawson nodded, leaning forward in his chair so he could roll it forward toward his screens.

"The old guy at the wedding, the old lady in the office building and now this old dude in some random parking lot." he pulled up their faces on the screen, all of them having the same red DECEASED bar flashing under their profile pictures, "All three of them pinged on the black box." he showed her the screen to the right where the victims names were highlighted on a news alert and then also on whatever file they were mentioned in in the black box, "All three of them killed in the same way. No sign of struggle, found alone…trust me, it's him." she took in a breath, letting her hands drop from where they were crossed over her chest to settle at her hips, "You always say it takes three to define a pattern." he reminded her, sensing her uncertainty.

"No, yeah, I know. I know." she waved her hand a bit at him before pulling her bottom lip into her mouth, "Okay, move over," she hip bumped his chair over so he slid a bit and ignored his appalled and offended expression.

"Hey, woah, you're gonna fuck up my settings." he protested, already moving his hand over to intercept her keystrokes. She batted his hand away; she may not be good with super advanced technology or coding or anything like Dawson did, but she knew what needed to be done next much better than he did.

Quickly shifting into her SHIELD mode, she went about what she would usually do whenever tracking down a mark or a threat. Analyze the profiles to find more information that could be useful. The same thing she did when they were trying to find Sitwell all those months ago. Her mind briefly flashed back to that moment in the car with Sam, following with a quick wonder of where he was and how he was doing before refocusing on the task at hand.

Cross-referencing his victims, she tried to find anything else the three had in common besides being killed by Bucky and being on the black box. Anything that they could use to predict who could be next. If there was a small enough group, then maybe they'd have a chance at intercepting him. And finally, Q could maybe feel like the entire decision to go find Bucky and all the consequences that came after it was worth it. That she didn't blow up her life for nothing.

"They were all on the same project." she muttered out, finding the connection, "Working as associates for other parts of the Soldier Project." she continued to read as Dawson asked questions,

"But didn't that project start in like World War two?" he asked, confused by the timeline, "These people were like late seventies, mid-eighties, not a hundred." he gestured to the main screen with all their faces.

"That's why I said  _other parts_." she repeated herself with a slight look in his direction. He rolled his eyes, pitching forward in his chair to get closer to the screen, "Apparently there were different phases. Yeah Bucky was like the main test subject, but the project continued to grow as whatever they did with Bucky became successful. They got more information, more technology, moved to Siberia, got more volunteers –"

"Volunteers?" he cut her off, "People actually volunteered for this shit?" she highlighted the passage she was paraphrasing from.

"Some were volunteers, some were…not." she finished, understanding how Hydra got their test subjects; kidnapping, human trafficking… "One of these people helped in that area once they shifted into advancing the Soldier Program." she dragged the mouse around the face of the woman, "The other two did other things like outside research or getting whatever sort of drugs or chemicals or whatever." she understood why they were considered Hydra-adjacent. All three had other careers that allowed Hydra to take advantage of the benefits without being caught or raising any eyebrows.

"So who's next?" he asked with an almost nervous look. She took in a breath and turned her attention back to the other screen, typing a few commands to pull up the other profiles mentioned in the project file.

"God it could be any one of these people." she mumbled dejectedly. About a dozen new profiles came up on the screen. Dawson let out a sigh, realizing why she didn't sound so hopeful.

"Do we just wait and see who dies next, let it get whittled down to the final one and  _then_  go after him?" he asked, getting Q to flick her head to stare at him with a startled expression at the insinuation that they were going to let those people be killed by Bucky. Dawson raised his hands up, "They're basically Nazis, I'm just saying." he defended himself. And while he had a point, she really wasn't sure what their next steps would be. Obviously, all she wanted was to find Bucky, but there were too many people that matched the modus operandi of the three that were killed.

"Let me do a bit more research." she settled on, motioning at him to get out of his chair, which he blatantly ignored, "See if I can find any more points of crossover between these three." she was already forming a mental list of things to compare and contrast with, but he still refused to move out of his seat, "Dawson, get  _up_." she groaned, "Go do some quote-unquote physical therapy with Marina for your hand. You told the doctor you would." she referenced back to the promise he made with the doctor who fixed his hand two months ago.

"He wasn't even a real doctor." he mumbled under his breath, but got out of his chair.

"Still fixed your hand, didn't he?" she asked with raised eyebrows. He rolled his eyes, but didn't comment, instead moving on to more important matters,

"Don't fuck with my chair either." he pointed at her, "The height is just how I like it and the seat is just firm enough." It was her turn to roll her eyes, which she did while rolling forward to the center of the three screen terminal.

The black box had been their biggest breakthrough yet. Where the journal and the Hydra network they had found in the bunker months before had been more specific to the beginning of the Soldier Project and Bucky himself, the black box increased their awareness of the Hydra that was still presently active. Holding an up to date record of all past projects, known associates and current open research projects, the black box provided much more than the journal or bunker network could. If she thought the SHIELD leak was bad…she could only imagine the kind of chaos would come from leaking the contents of the Hydra black box. Sometimes she considered it.

The terrible things they had done in the name of science – kidnapping children and forcing them into the same program Bucky had gone through in hopes of a better outcome, using some of Steve's DNA to create clones of him to use as a weapon against him, and other horrific things to further their plans of complete societal control. And no one knew that any of it had happened except for the people involved.

But at the moment, that wasn't her main concern. She needed to figure out Bucky's pattern and try to figure out a way to predict who his next target might be. While she let her program run it's course (really the only computer program she knew how to execute), she turned to the journal they had found in the Hydra bunker. Marina had translated it for them in a matter of days and Q often found herself turning to the English pages that had printed out for her more often than not. It gave her an inside look at what exactly they did to Bucky to turn him from Captain America's best friend into a weapon they could use for whatever they pleased.

She figured the notebook would give her nightmares or not being able to get through it – the details more in depth than anything she had ever read before, but instead she found herself flying through the contents of the journal in less than a week. For as horrifying as the content was, she learned so much about both the organization and Bucky himself.

_Entry 012: ...The asset has not taken well to the new arm he has been given. Mills found him trying to rip it off. The asset did not seem to care about the pain he was inflicting to himself, solely focused on getting the arm off. The skin has scarred from where he managed to break through in his desperate efforts to tear the arm away. Must reprogram him to understand the arm is a gift..._

_Entry 033: The asset is struggling with memories of a past person. The neurological team is working on procedures that include several different types of electroshock therapy sessions along with a list of trigger words and phrases to help with erasing the past man who lived inside of the asset's body. Will update with progress._

_Entry 207: Lingering abnormalities from the man before haunt the asset, despite the advancements made in the neurological rewiring. Such as: hugging the right walls instead of left, hesitating slightly when it comes to climbing stairs, omitting color descriptors (though will describe if asked directly), refuses to utilize any of the left pockets of his uniform (unsure if this has something to do with the new arm adjustments that were made)._

And while it didn't help them find Bucky any quicker, it made her understand him a bit more. Understand why he paused that day on the riverbank – saving Steve instead of killing him, and why he turned the other way instead of hurting her either. Understand why Hydra had to work so hard to erase the man he used to be and why he was now killing off anyone and everyone who had something to do with the torture he had been put through. Kind of ironic, she thought; the weapon they had made was ultimately going to be their demise.

A ping from the computer got her attention, pulling her from the section of the journal she had been reading. The program had found a few similar matches to the tag she had entered earlier. Narrowing down the other dozen's location in regards to the last three who had been killed, left four profiles on display. While none of them  _looked_ familiar, one of the names got her attention. Mostly because it was the same name that was mentioned in the journal passage she had been reading while the program was running.

Flipping back through the translated pages, she found where the name had been mentioned. It was only briefly, at the top of the page where the involved were listed before the report began. The man had come up with some sort of drug that had been tested on Bucky to quell the infection that had started to spread from the metal arm they replaced his real arm with. The metal wasn't as new as it was when first attached to Bucky, causing some of the arm melding with the little skin he had left on the shoulder. Added with the constant use of the appendage, made for the metal to slowly rub away at the skin on the shoulder and letting some of the pieces to come in contact with his bloodstream.

_While it has been a long time since the subject has had any issues with the metal arm, (see entry number 012 for more information) post-mission evaluations prove that blood toxicity levels are rising. The arm, being mostly made out of a Titanium alloy, poses no real threat to the body since it is not a poison metal and the human body can tolerate titanium in large dose. It could be in relation to either the other alloys or the technological upgrades given to the arm as stated in previous entries (see entry numbers 045, 101, 175)._

_Since it is generally accepted that some amount of ion release is necessary to start a reaction, factors such as interaction between different metals could initiate a corrosive process on the titanium surfaces and this will initiate ion release or structural changes which could be the cause of the infection._

_Thanks to the advanced healing aspect of the serum the subject had been given, his blood toxicity levels is rapidly falling just as quickly as they were rising. Yet the constant self-healing is slowing him down. This is not ideal. The weapon must be able to be fully operational at all times, despite what may be going on inside his body. Dr. List is working on a drug to administer to the subject that will clear the infection and prevent any further infections from the metals._

Apparently ibuprofen wasn't strong enough to get rid of it. But List had been successful in his experiment, using his career at a pharmaceutical quality control lab as a cover for the antibiotic he was creating. He had administered the drug over a period of time, having constant contact with Bucky during it. The journal had quoted reports from him, noting how out of it Bucky seemed. He would be staring into space, unaware of his surroundings or what was going on, and only answering with brief, almost one syllable answers whenever asked a question - exactly how Hydra programed him to. In a way the man may have saved his life, but it also damned him to Hydra for a long time after.

Despite not being at Hydra at all times, List had quite a bit of one on one time with Bucky. And in an effort to find another link between him and the other three, she went flipping through the journal entries again to find any mentions of the other names. Any thing she could do in an effort to narrow down the list of potentials before it was too late.

Since she was doing it manually, it took her a bit to find the names. But she did - all of them being before any mention of List and his interactions with Bucky. Each of them had prolonged face to face exchanges with him at pivotal moments during his time in the third phase of the Soldier project. Oleksander was the one upgrading his arm with current technological advances, the woman had used/abused him as a bodyguard when "recruiting" new members for the project and the most current victim had brought back research for Bucky's programming - the programming that turned him into the Winter Soldier Q had come face to face with.

"Oh my god, he's going after the ones he remembers most." she muttered to herself, coming to the realization of the pattern. Even if he was despondent and seemed checked out while interacting with these people, a part of his brain was filing away their faces, names, what they did...all for the moment when he got himself back. And it was clear he was slowly getting there.

Calling a team meeting, she explained what she had found to Marina and Dawson - along with the plan she had come up with the intercept Bucky before he made his move. List had been working on a Hydra-approved project in Sokovia where volunteers and non-volunteers alike were being gathered to be experimented on. The project had been active ever since the last black box update, which had been a few days prior to the group stealing it from Oleksander's office.

Her plan was to infiltrate the project as a volunteer, make contact with List and convince him to come with her to a secure location. Somewhere where Bucky would no doubt track them down, but still someplace where she would be able to get to him at the same time.

"And you think  _you're_ going to be the one going into a Hydra experiment facility?" Dawson asked after she had finished explaining her plan.

"Uh, yeah." she thought she had made that painfully clear. He let out a scoff, shaking his head as he got up from his chair,

"No, no way are you doing that." he shot her down, making her let out a similar scoff to his,

"What? Are  _you_  gonna do it?" she asked, arms crossing over her chest and tone making it clear she didn't think he would be volunteering any time soon. He held eye contact with her for a moment, jaw opening slightly and then turning his head to look at Marina,

"Marina can." he volunteered his semi-friend up. She made a face and shrugged, obviously unconcerned with what she had just been volunteered for.

"No, no, no," Q shook her head, raising her hands up in front of her, "Listen, I'm going, okay? You're still injured and Marina needs to stay here to keep an eye on the screens." she put them in their roles, eyes flicking between the two before settling back on Dawson, "You can keep tabs on me with trackers and comms - it'll be fine, okay?" she assured them, just wanting to get the plan into motion. The longer they waited, the smaller their window of time became. Based on her timeline of the previous victims' deaths, they had about thirteen hours before List was killed by Bucky.

Dawson begrudgingly agreed after a few more moments of coaxing and reassurance that nothing was going to happen; with his tech, Q would be fine. While he went off to tinker with their tracking devices and comm links, she turned to Marina to figure out  _how_  she would be getting into the Hydra facility.

"From everything I've found, they've worked mainly with human trafficking rings." she explained to Marina while they were coming up with a plan, "It's terrible, but it's not something you can just  _find_." she looked over at the woman, who was nodding slowly to herself.

"Sure it is. Bars, nightclubs, even just out on the street when you see little children asking for your help to find their moms." she answered, a bit of weight to her voice while she ticked off different examples. Q paused for a moment, not wanting to continue the conversation if it was going to make Marina uncomfortable. But it was Marina who continued, clearing her throat and asking, "They're looking for people who want to take part in some sort of medical research project, right?"

"That's what they're framing it as." Q took in a breath and looked at the papers that were on the table in front of them, "Some sort of study. They promise to pay you."

"Of course they do, unless they kill you." she quipped as she read the information from the black box file, "Working mainly with victims of the Sokovia riots and those fed up with the state of the country." she pointed out, dragging her finger along to part to highlight her point. Ironic, since the state of the country was entirely Hydra's fault; using the riots as a cover for the experiments that were happening, "There's your in." she raised her eyebrows up and glanced over to Q.

From there, they had to quickly finish up the rest of the arrangements needed: the traveling plans, the how, where and who she would make contact with in order to get to the facility. She would fake an injury and get herself to a small walk-in clinic that the black box listed as a place Hydra used as a recruitment hub - one that didn't have an online processing database or any up to date security measures (so there would be no risk of other people finding out where she was). She was coached by Marina on what to say, given a comms piece from Dawson along with multiple tracking devices in case of emergency.

Everything was going according to plan; she had gotten to Sokovia with no issues, managed to find the clinic and get in to see one of the doctors. She had said what Marina wanted her to say and could tell it was the right thing based on the look the doctor had given her.

"What's happening now is terrible." the doctor prompted in Ukrainian, having switched from Russian earlier in the visit. She nodded, making her face a bit sad,

"If only there were some way to change it." she responded, playing the part. The doctor nodded, closing his file folder and pressing it against his chest,

"There is a facility working in the mountains that is dedicated to finding a way to achieve the power needed to drive war out of Sokovia." he told her exactly what she wanted to hear, "They're recruiting anyone interested in stopping this madness." she nodded, wanting him to ask her the right question, "Are you someone interested in that?" Bingo. She was in.

"I am, yes." she responded, hands gripping the edge of examination table she was seated on. The doctor nodded and he gave her a quick smile.

"One moment, I will go get the necessary paperwork for you to fill out." he turned for the door, exiting the room and leaving Q alone.

"Did you get all that?" she asked, turning her head to the side and pressing into her comm piece as she switched to English again.

" _Yeah, looks like you're about to take a trip to Hydraland."_ Dawson's voice came back over,

"The most terrifying place on Earth." she muttered, hearing him huff out a laugh before becoming serious again,

" _Be careful, alright?"_

"I told you, I got this." she assured him, "I'll let you know when I make contact." she quickly finished up the conversation as she heard the doctor coming back to the room. He had a few papers on a clipboard in one hand and a syringe in the other. Oh,  _that_  was not part of the plan.

"I just need you to fill these out," he handed her the clipboard before moving over to her arm, "And this is just something to help flush out any toxins that may be in your body." he explained offhandedly, making her think it was anything  _but_. Though before she could protest, he had already pushed the needle into her arm, letting whatever was inside the syringe go into her bloodstream.

She tried to focus on the clipboard in front of her, but her vision was swimming. The world felt like it was spinning even though she was seated. And her head felt like it was too heavy for her body. She tried to keep her eyes open as long as she could, but soon whatever he had drugged her with took over. Her body tipped to the side and she fell into the darkness.

When she woke, it was like she was dealing with the worst hangover of her life. Even blinking hurt. She groaned to herself, trying to take stock of what hurt most in her body; her head was number one, but also weirdly her right arm and her left ankle. Her ear felt empty; they had taken out her comm piece, meaning she had no way of contacting Dawson to let him know where she was or what her current situation was. What was her current situation anyway? All she knew was that the world was still spinning slightly - but it slowed to a stop after a moment of focusing on her breathing.

"Ah, you're awake." A male voice spoke, in English but lilted with an Eastern European accent. It came from the back left corner of whatever room she was in. She tried to turn her head to look, but it hurt too much to try.

She went to sit up, only finding that she couldn't; she was strapped down to a chair much like the ones dentists used. Restraints were holding her down from her ankles to her wrists to the big, thick one across her ribcage. Looking up she found herself staring at some sort of machine that had wires spewing out from the bottom, rings outlining whatever was inside and a giant light bulb in the center.

Needless to say, she was panicking. This was not supposed to be part of the plan. She was supposed to be ushered in with the rest of the volunteer group. Supposed to have able to make contact with List before the window had closed. Not stuck in some sort of Hydra torture room.

"Hopefully, you had a nice rest," the man's voice was getting closer as were his footsteps. There was a click from beside her and the chair she was strapped down to straightened up a bit so that she was in a sitting position, "because we have a few  _very_  exciting days ahead of us..." Finally, she was able to see who had been talking to her: a tall, bald man dressed in all black, with a monocle on his right eye and an almost predatory grin on his face, "Agent Proctor." he smoothly said, as if waiting a while to deliver that line.

It was his way of letting her know that he knew who she  _really_  was and that she was utterly, royally fucked.

* * *


	58. emotional torture

Originally, she was supposed to be grouped with the other volunteers who arrived at the facility that day. She was just another body they could study, use and abuse under the guise of research - really furthering their advancements in the creation of enhanced species. Nothing special. And everyone in the facility thought just that until one of the scientists recognized her during the intake scan.

Her face matched a picture from the SHIELD database leak that had spread across the world months prior. One that a few people in the facility combed through in detail just to make sure no one was aware of their project. Making sure that at least a  _few_ Hydra secrets were still kept under wraps (their project was left undiscovered thankfully). A few more clicks pulled up her entire SHIELD file, letting them read about things that weren't previously public knowledge. Never had they had an ex-SHIELD agent in their hands before...

Which was why von Strucker decided he wanted to deal with her personally. She could be useful to them; giving them information on the now collapsed government organization and whatever sorts of partnerships they had. Information on known associates and missions that were still active even though the division was no longer in charge. And if not, he was sure they could find something else to use her for.

As if the SHIELD connection wasn't surprising enough, there was another connection that made their new guest all the more enticing. During the evaluation, the techs found that her DNA contained markers similar to a previous subject Hydra had experimented on. The original soldier in the Soldier Project. It was a faint, only about fifteen percent match, but it was enough to prick his interest in the woman. His plan formulated from there.

It could've been hours, days, weeks, or months, Q really wasn't sure. All she knew was that she was trapped in the Hydra facility, still strapped to the chair she had woken up in. The only time she was ever  _un_ strapped was when she needed to use the restroom, but her hands were tied behind her back and she wasn't ever left by herself. She wasn't even sure she'd be able to do anything if she  _was_  ever alone. Von Strucker - the man with the monocle - was a Hydra scientist and had developed a special interest in Q for what she assumed was because of her ties with SHIELD. His team started poking and prodding her, attaching wires all along her body to monitor activity and began pumping her with some sort of blue liquid that made her head hurt even more than the bright light that had been shining on her face ever since she woke up.

She had tried to fight it, of course. Tried to get out of the restraints, making the skin around her wrists raw. Bit and headbutted anyone who came close to her. Screamed so loudly and for so long that her throat felt like it was on fire. But it was no use; no one was letting her out and no one could hear her screams - or even if they could, no one cared.

All von Strucker cared about was making her talk. At first, Q didn't understand  _why_  he wanted to talk about the organization that had collapsed months prior. All the information he could ever want was out there on the world wide web - some encrypted yes, but still available for him. Then she realized he wanted to get specific. Learn about the things she had seen and read during her time analyzing the Avengers and their counterparts. Discover things that were so classified they were kept out of the database. Like the farm she had set up for Barton and his family, which she had been able to keep under wraps, despite the tactics von Strucker used.

SHIELD had forced all of their recruits to go through the proper training in case they were ever in a situation like the one she was currently in now. Though all of the simulations were predictable -  _this_  was not. None of Fury's training modules had prepared her for the electroshock therapy she had endured first, or the nails being pushed under her fingernails that had come after, or the red hot wires that were wrapped around her wrists, cutting the skin deep enough to leave scars - and  _nothing_ had prepared her for the young woman who walked through the door after all that. From the way the guards moved with her, it was clear that all that happened before was just an appetizer. Whatever the woman was about to do to her was the main course.

As she walked into the room and got closer to Q, she realized the woman was really just a girl. Younger than her, but older than Q's sister. She had long wavy brown hair that brushed her stomach. Her eyes were ringed with dark eyeliner - good to know Hydra had some makeup kits lying around, and she was dressed in what seemed to be a ratty t-shirt that was just too long so she had decided it was a dress.

"Who are you?" Q asked, trying to sound a bit tougher than she felt. Though the scratchiness of her voice made her seem just as weak as she really was. The woman didn't respond, instead stalking around her like Q was her prey - and she probably was. Q's eyes followed her around the dimly lit room, trying to figure out what this woman was going to do to her. That way she could brace herself just as she had during the first two rounds of torture.

Suddenly, with a flick of her wrist, a bright red glow started to extend from her fingers. The tendrils came closer to Q's head - only her peripheral vision letting her see a bit of how the red energy twisted and taunted it's way to her and then wrapped itself around her head. The next thing she knew, her eyes were rolling back and the world went dark.

_Letting her eyes flutter open, she rolled over in bed and winced a little as the sunlight hit her directly in the face. Her hand moved up to block the sun a bit so she could get adjusted while she woke up a bit more. She pushed herself up into a sitting position and looked around her bedroom, feeling like something was a little off. But she pushed past it once she heard the noise of plates clinking together coming from the kitchen._

_Following the noise, she found the perfect scene in the kitchen. Steve, fresh from the shower, at the stove and filling a plate with an pile of scrambled eggs, home fries, and bacon. As if he could sense her (he probably could with those super soldier abilities), he glanced over his shoulder at her with a brilliant grin._

"' _Morning, baby." he turned away from the stove so that he could face her fully, "We were wondering when you were gonna get up…" he teased her lightly, but Q's brows furrowed._

" _We?" she asked while he moved over to give her a kiss on the cheek. She took the plate he was handing her and noticed his subtle head tilt toward the living room area._

_There were baby toys strewn around the living room; a large playmat took up most of the room in the center, fit with a massive hanging mobile. Wanting to see if what she thought was really there was actually there, she took a couple steps into the living room. Around the couch, in the middle of the playmat was...a baby. A baby. And God was she adorable._

_Forgetting about breakfast, she set the plate on the side table and moved to pick up their baby. Tears sprung to her eyes as she held the baby in front of her eyes. She had never really thought about having kids before - it just never made its way into her plans. But then she had met Steve and had a fleeting thought that maybe,_ _**maybe** _ _, there could be a possibility of it happening. And it had - without her even realizing it._

_She balanced the baby on her hip, letting her wrap her tiny hand around her other finger. The baby stared back at her. Her eyes an almost exact copy of Steve's eyes, flecks of green included, and a soft dusting of dark hair that had to be from Q. She always hated how new parents said their baby was the cutest baby they had ever seen; come on, all babies looked the same. But now she understood. Her baby was the cutest baby she had ever seen._

_Whispering sweet nothings to her, she barely noticed Steve coming up to the two of them until his arm slid around her waist and pulled them closer to him. She turned her face to his and lifted her chin up a bit so he could rest his forehead against hers. Her eyes fluttered shut as she took in the moment, trying to remember it forever._

" _We've got a family." she whispered to him, feeling almost giddy. After everything she had done to him, all the hurt and pain she caused - he had forgiven her. He had forgiven her and they had built a life, a family, together. She had gotten her happy ending after all, hadn't she?_

Wanda let her live in the moment for a bit more, knowing that it wasn't going to last much longer. Her instructions were clear: she could use the former SHIELD agent however she wanted - using her as a lab rat for the newfound powers that had been developing since she and her brother had signed up for von Strucker's experiments, but she was also supposed to be making, no  _breaking_  her, so that when von Strucker came back, he could get whatever he wanted out of her and then some.

But first she wanted to ease the woman into it. Give her something to make her feel like what was happening in her head wasn't  _just_ happening in her head. That way she would be less likely to fight back - but by the looks of the it, she probably wouldn't be fighting back anyway. Thanks to whatever the scientists had pumped into her, her body was adjusting to it and reorganizing itself to welcome whatever was in the drug they had given her. It was in transition mode, a vulnerable state. Meaning her muscles were being stripped to be rebuilt, her immune system was weakening only to become stronger, and her mind was pliable. Easily accessible for Wanda to project whatever scenes she wanted - both good and bad, pulling from her favorite dreams and preying on her worst nightmares.

And she had had enough of this warm family scene. It left her with a sour taste in her mouth; a reminder of what she had lost and how this woman was associated with some of the people at fault for it.

_The world flexed around them. Q could feel it. And a second later, there was a knock at the door. Steve moved to answer it and as soon as he opened the door a shot rang out - echoing around the apartment and matching Q's scream of horror. He crumpled down onto the ground and Q immediately went to protect the child in her arms, only to find she wasn't holding anything at all. There was no baby, no baby toys...only her and Steve, who was bleeding out on the floor in front of the door._

_Thoughts moving to him, she rushed over to his body and fell to her knees next to him. Her hands were shaking as she tried to press them over the blossoming red spot on his chest. His breathing was already weak and his eyes were unfocused, flitting around as if trying to find something to focus on._

" _Steve, hey, hey, hi," she moved one hand to the back of his head to cradle it, "I'm right here, baby. Right here." she assured him, trying to get his eyes to focus on her. He found her and winced in pain._

" _This wouldn't have happened -" he managed out, coughing up a bit of blood as he did, "if you hadn't left me." he finished seriously. She felt tears spring to her eyes and a small sob escaped without her realizing it._

" _I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Steve." she apologized profusely. He couldn't die. Not like this. Not still mad at her for leaving him. She didn't know what she would do if he was still upset with her while he died in her arms. He needed to know how much she loved him, how much she regretted her mistake. He was right: she never should've left him._

" _He's right, you know." A different voice spoke from above her. Tearing her eyes from Steve, she looked up to see Bucky - no - the Winter Soldier standing above her. The light glinted off his metal arm, the bottom of his face covered by a mask and there was a gun in his other hand, which he was resting casually against his shoulder as if he didn't just use it to shoot Steve. Reaching for his mask, he pulled it off with his metal hand and tossing it to the side, revealing Bucky's face underneath. Except the dead eyes staring at her told her he was anything but her supposed grand-uncle._

_Her breath quickened as she scrambled back from him, her ass sliding against the wood floor of the apartment. He stepped over Steve's body without a glance, entirely focused on her as he clicked back the chamber of the gun._

" _He was your friend." she managed out, eyes darting to where Steve lay in a pool of his own blood._

" _No he wasn't." he shook his head slightly, reminding her that she was dealing with a different person, "He was my mission." his voice was monotone. She kept backing up until her back hit the bottom of the island. Her chest was heaving with quick, panicked breaths as she tried to think of something to say, but her mind was blank, "And so are you." his voice dropped into a low, scary tone that made her shiver, "You shouldn't have tried to find me, Q." he raised his gun and pointed it at her._

_Squeezing her eyes shut, she braced herself for the sound of a gun firing, but instead there was nothing but silence. She waited another moment before slowly opening her eyes. It took her a moment to realize that she wasn't in the apartment anymore, but in a white room. Was this heaven? Or hell? Or somewhere in between? She had no idea. But there was something familiar about the room nonetheless._

_The door - there was a door, clicked open and much to her surprise, Fury walked into the room. Dressed in his usual uniform of all black with a matching eye patch for his injured eye. She tried to remember how he lost his eye, but it was hard to. Why was he here? Weren't they supposed to keep their distance since the Congress hearings?_

" _Are you finished with your tantrum, Proctor?" he asked with a raise of his eyebrow. Her fists clenched instinctively and she went to raise them, only to feel restrained. Looking down, she realized she was strapped to a single, twin bed, no longer standing in the middle of the white room. And that's when she realized where she was._

" _Let me go." she gritted out, already hating the situation she was forced back into. This wasn't her anymore. Fury knew that. Why was he treating her like he didn't?_

" _Not until I'm sure you won't have another outburst. January is still bleeding from where you bit her."_

" _She shouldn't have gotten so close." she spat out the right response. It made Fury chuckle a bit, walking closer to the bed, but still keeping his distance from her._

" _Need I remind you this is your second chance to do something with your so-called life." he clasped his hands behind his back as she continued to struggle against her restraints, "We didn't have to be this merciful." he reminded her. She glared at him, angry at him for putting her right back where all her hard work had gotten her out of. She had done so much to prove she wasn't that girl anymore._

" _A little longer then." Fury decided before she could argue. He left the room without another word, ignoring her yells of anger. She wriggled against her restraints, trying find a way to get herself out. She had done it before - which they knew, and of course the reason why they had made them tighter._

" _She's watching you." A voice bounced around the room, sounding like a young child whispering a secret, "She's here. You have to get out of here." she urgently told Q. Again, Q struggled against the restraints. Relaxing her hand, she twisted her wrist back and forth to wiggle it out of the straps. It took a minute but she got herself free and let out a proud gasp at how her efforts paid off. She ripped off the other restraints and quickly scrambled off the bed for the door. Time to get out of there._

"Let her go." Wanda ordered the guards, stopping them from getting in the way of wherever the woman was going. She was curious to see where the woman would end up in the facility, especially considering what was going on inside her head. The woman had ripped off her restraints with a clumsy force that Wanda didn't know she had. Whatever was inside of her was making a home inside her body.

Following her stumbling walk through the building, Wanda sent out tendrils of energy to make sure no one followed them. Jolting her out of the manipulation would cause some serious side effects that would be detrimental to all of von Strucker's work. She couldn't have that happen.

_Hurrying down the hall, the girl's voice kept echoing. Reminding her that someone was watching her, even though the hallway was empty. She kept looking over her shoulder as she walked through the SHIELD Academy halls as if expecting someone to pop up and confirm what the girl was saying._

_As she passed by a window, Q paused at the sight of her reflection. Instead of the woman who always stared back at her, there was a younger version of herself. Her nineteen year old self to be exact - purple highlights, nose ring and all. Her eyes were sunken in and ringed black with smudged eyeliner, lips chapped and SHIELD Academy uniform ripped and dirty for some reason she couldn't remember. That explained why Fury was acting the way he was._

_Stepping up to the reflection, Q raised her hand and watched the other her do the same. She pressed her hand to the glass, letting their hands come together. Her eyes scanned the reflection while the other her watched with an almost cocky look._

" _Doesn't matter how hard you try to change." her reflection spoke, "Doesn't matter how many pantsuits you hide under or how many people you keep at a distance and push away. Doesn't matter how hard convince yourself you're not me." she raised her other hand and Q watched as she herself did the same thing to match the reflection's motion._

" _You'll always be me. Us." she reminded her with a smirk._

_Backing up from the window, Q quickly turned and ran down the hall. She glanced in the windows she passed, seeing the same reflection pass by and keep up with her as she tried to escape. Tried to leave her past self behind. It wasn't her anymore. It couldn't be. Right? Even despite the shitty decisions she had made, she was a different person. She had to be. Right?_

_Turning a corner, she pushed through a random door and found herself in a completely different hallway of a completely different building. A quick glance down at herself revealed that she was in a pantsuit instead of the SHIELD Academy uniform. The ding of the elevator got her attention and she looked to see two doors sliding open and in stepped a large group of SHIELD agents._

" _Proctor," Sitwell called out to her, "You comin' or what?" he asked and she moved into the elevator with them while the same voice kept repeating the phrase it had been over and over again._

_She was here._

_She was watching her._

_Had to get out._

_A hand came down on her lower back, making her glance to the side to see Rumlow standing beside her. His face didn't give way to the fact that his hand was moving down her back to her ass. Nor did he seem to care that they were in a crowded elevator with other agents and STRIKE team members._

_Before she could do anything, the elevator stopped moving and opened to whatever floor she had gone up to. She carefully walked out with the rest of the group, bracing herself for whatever she was going to find next. But certainly not bracing herself enough for Nat coming up to her with Loki's scepter in her hand._

" _Here," she handed it out to Q. Pausing before she took it, she noticed that Nat's hair was short and curly, like it had been during the Battle of New York. In fact, she was even dressed in the same uniform she wore…_

_A quick glance around let her know that she was on the penthouse level of Stark Tower mere moments after the Battle of New York ended. No, this wasn't right. She hadn't been here then. Sure she had looked over the security camera footage in her post-op analysis, focused on certain points, and drew connections to past actions in the penthouse that predicted future ones, but she was never actually there._

_She was here._

_She was watching her._

_Had to get out._

" _Are you gonna take this or what, Q?" Nat asked, shaking the scepter a bit, "My arm's getting tired." Q reached for it, almost entranced by the glow of it. She had never seen it up close before..._

The scepter pulsed brightly, as if it was a living, breathing, thing. Wanda knew it was. She could feel it. And knew it was the thing that made her to the person she was at that point. Gifting her with the abilities to finish the war that Sokovia was in, avenging the people she had lost and fighting for a better future. The woman seemed to know it's power too, reaching out for it only for Wanda to quickly deter her away from it - the last thing she needed was the woman wielding the scepter while trapped in her own mind. Who knew what she would do with it.

" _Queenie…" the sound of Steve's voice got her attention. She turned to see him stumbling over to her, clutching his abdomen. His uniform was ripped and stained with dirt and blood. Hair falling over his face, blood dripping from his mouth. Her heart contracted at the sight of him. No, not again. She managed to catch him as he fell into her arms, going down onto the ground with him._

" _You're okay, you're alright." she comforted him, pushing back his sweaty hair in an effort to see his face. She watched as his face became paler, breaths labored and longer pauses between each exhale. He was dying, in her arms, yet again._

" _It's your...fault." he managed out. His dying words. His eyes fluttered shut as she clutched him tightly,_

" _No, no no no no." she rocked him a bit as tears streamed down her face, "No, Steve, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" she cried out before picking her head up and looking around the room, "Someone help!" she screamed out, but no one listened - no even_ _ **heard**_   _her._

" _Q…" Steve's voice came from another corner of the room. His nose was bleeding and he reached up to touch it, coming away with a horrified expression and then meeting her eyes, "You did this to me." he whispered out, but it still echoed even long after he collapsed onto the floor. Dead. Just like the other._

_Again, and again she watched as multiple Steve's popped up around the room. All of them about to die. All of them telling her it was her fault. She shouldn't have left him. He's dead and it's her fault. Her fault._

_Her fault._

_She was here._

_Her fault._

_Her nineteen year old reflection waggled her fingers at her from the window across the room._

_She was watching her._

_She did this to him._

_Shouldn't have gone to find Bucky. Shouldn't have left._

_Couldn't change. Was always going to be who she was. A self-sabotager, liferuiner, unloveable._

_Steve's dead._

_Had to get out._

The sound of a shrieking alarm suddenly got Wanda's attention and was enough to make her drop the woman from the hold she had on her. The woman collapsed to the ground like a sack of potatoes, groaning softly as the vision ended abruptly. Guards rushed out from every available doorway, heading into the direction of the intruder alert.

Leaving the woman there, Wanda melted back into the shadows of the corners. She watched as the woman tried to get to her feet, failing once, twice and then finally just rolling onto her side and curling up into a ball and sobbing slightly. A sign that Wanda had done well. Von Strucker would be pleased to know that the woman was in a position where she would be more willing to talk. Smirking to herself, Wanda moved against the wall to go find von Strucker. With a flick of her wrist, she influenced a guard to watch over the woman until she got back with the scientist.

Q drifted in and out of consciousness, becoming unsure what was real and what wasn't. The world spun a little as she tried to sort through what she had just experienced. Whatever that woman did to her - drugged her or whatever, it sent her on a trip unlike any drug induced one she had ever been on before. God it wrecked her more than any of the torture von Strucker had put her through.

Trying to settle her mind, she focused on how cold the ground was beneath her. The ground. She must be out of the chair then. Testing her theory, she moved her arms out, sliding them against the concrete floor she was curled up on. Nothing stopped her - no restraints or wires or tubes connected somewhere else. Was she...free?

She tried to get to her feet, but quickly realized her balance was completely off kilter. Had to be a side effect of whatever the woman did to her. She ended up collapsing back down and instead crawling toward what looked like was a wall of some sort. She could use it for support. Leaning her back against the wall, she set herself in a seated position, trying to keep her head up and her eyes open so she could formulate some sort of escape plan. The pain she was in was even worse than the pain she experienced when she had gotten shot. This was the emotional pain, the type of mental pain that wouldn't go away with some stitches. She was spent.

Plus, there was a shrill noise in her ears that was making it hard to truly focus. Until she realized it was some sort of alarm. She looked around to find the woman who had been fucking with her but only saw a guard standing at attention with swirls of red softly moving around him. Another victim of the woman's powers. No one else was paying attention to her, running by her without a second glance.

With that in mind, she tried to refocus on coming up with an escape plan. She had no idea where she was or how she got there but there was a window a few feet away. Even though she had no idea how high up she actually was, she figured she could jump; an escape was an escape. Rather a few broken bones than being trapped in Hydra hell.

Crawling the few feet to the window proved to be a challenge, but somehow she made it. And the uniformed man didn't even move to stop her. Her nails dug into the concrete ledge of the window, using it as a way to pull herself up a bit more. She had to stop after that though. Out of breath, she wondered where all that hard work and training the past several months had disappeared to.

"Q!" she suddenly heard a familiar voice call out from behind her. One she hadn't heard in a long time. She turned toward it, slipping against the concrete and falling onto her ass again. Wincing in pain, she shut her eyes and then somehow heard the heavy thuds of whoever was calling out to her get closer. He dropped into a crouch in front of her and she opened her eyes to see his dirty blond hair first,

"Steve…" she whispered, breathing out a sigh of relief as her eyes fluttered shut again, "You're here, thank god you're here, Steve." her head lolled back as if it was too heavy for her neck to hold anymore. It didn't matter. Steve was there. He was alive and he had come to rescue her. He wasn't angry with her. Everything was going to be okay. He let out a slight chuckle as his hand reached behind her head to support it.

"It's been a long time, bunny, but I really thought you'd  _at least_ always remember my name." he smoothly, almost teasingly, said. It was enough to get her to open her eyes again, long enough for the face in front of her to come into focus.

"Oh, fucking damnit... _Spencer_." she managed out, pairing it with a groan.

Out of all the people she expected to rescue her, he was the last person she  _expected_  to see. And overall, he wasn't even  _on_  the list of people she  _wanted_  to see.

* * *


	59. saved but still trapped

The next time Q woke up, she was confused. Mostly because there was a bright light spilling across her face. And also because it wasn't the same harsh fluorescent one she had gotten used to during her time strapped to the chair. It seemed to be coming from the sun itself. There hadn't been any natural light source in whatever Hydra hellhole she had been in for however long. Plus, she was no longer strapped to a chair, but instead in a rather comfortable bed, propped up by soft and firm pillows alike. For a moment, she thought she was back in the manipulation the glowy-handed woman put her in. But would she be able to know that she was in a dream? The question made her head throb.

Letting her head loll to the side, she caught sight of someone standing on the opposite of the bed. His back was to her, muscles straining against the gray tee he was wearing and the sunlight glinted off his dirty blonde hair. Her heart leapt to her throat. Maybe Steve really had come to save her and Spencer was just a delusion leftover from whatever the glowy-handed woman did to her.

"Steve…" his name tumbled from her lips without her meaning for it to. She started to push herself up onto her elbows to get a better look at him as he chuckled.

"'Kay, I don't know who this  _Steve_ guy is," she faltered in her half hearted attempt to sit up as he turned around to face her, "but I'm gettin' a little offended that you can't seem to remember my name, bunny." Spencer raised his shoulders up in a shrug and pursed his lips together, "And maybe a little jealous." he added, tossing her a wink. With a groan, she fell back against the pillows, eyes fluttering shut. Of course it wasn't Steve - just her shitty ex-boyfriend.

"What are you doing here, Spencer?" she managed out. Her throat felt a little raw, like she was sick or had smoked one too many cigarettes. She kept her eyes shut. Partly because it was hard to find the energy to reopen them but mostly so she didn't have to see his face for a moment longer than she had to.

"Well, as usual, saving your life." she could practically hear the smirk on his face, "Found you all fucked up in the hallway of the facility. Decided it was the least I could do." Oh how badly she wished she had the strength to muster a glare in his direction. All things considering, it was the  _least_ of the least he could do.

Spencer Robinson, otherwise known as Q's ex-high-school-boyfriend, was the reason she was even in this mess in the first place. He was the reason she ended up in jail, the reason she was plopped into SHIELD and everything that had happened to her since. Some say she should be grateful; if not for him, she never would've been to jail, never would've been taken out and placed in SHIELD's program or never would've met Steve. But fuck those people. He ruined her life from the moment he walked into homeroom. Could she have left him earlier? Of course. But she didn't. So, liferuiner.

As most high school romances go, it was a whirlwind. She fell hard and fast for him. He gave her everything she ever wanted and then some. Looking back, it was a terrible, destructive relationship, but if she knew, she didn't care. They went on adventures (mostly illegal ones), and experienced things that she hadn't before (mostly drug or alcohol related).

The last time she had seen him was the night she went to jail. She had tripped, fallen and all he needed to do was simply help her to her feet. But he didn't. He had left her on the ground, by herself, to get caught and saved his own ass. The anger at him had lived in her for a long, long time and originally, she had thought enough time had passed where she could move past it. She was wrong.

But there were other things she wanted to know rather than rehashing the past. She tried to reopen her eyes, slowly achieving it. God, he still looked like nothing more than an angel. Even though he was the furthest thing from it. The devil in a halo. He was holding a bowl of warm, soapy water in one hand, and a glass of ice water in the other.

"C'mon, you need your fluids." he held the glass of ice water out to her, "And I have to continue cleaning those wounds of yours so they don't get infected any more than they already have."

"How did you find me?" she asked, ignoring the offer and the plan of action that followed. He gave her a sly grin that made her stomach roll. Not wanting to hear him actually say it, she filled in the blanks, "Oh God, you're working for them, aren't you?"

"Technically  _with_  them." Spencer held up the glass of water to make his correction, "Got a nice little partnership with those serpent dudes." he chuckled and took a sip from the water glass, "Really thought you knew that, bunny." he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth almost like he was disappointed in her.

"How in holy hell would I know that?" she tried to snap back, but it came out more miserable than she intended. Again, he grinned at her.

"Considern' your position in SHIELD and all." her throat suddenly became a bit drier with panic before she realized that of course he knew. She was on television for Christ's sake at a Congress hearing. Her files had been released to the general public for them to peruse at their leisure. It was just surprising that Spencer had taken the time to read them at all.

"I tend not to keep tabs on my exes….unlike  _some_  people." she responded dryly, tipping her chin down to give him a knowing look. Unfazed, he winked at her and took another sip of the water that was supposedly for her. "If you're with them then why….why did you get me out of there?" she asked, clearing her throat a bit and then wincing.

"I'm not completely heartless, bunny." he made his voice softer. Perching himself on the edge of the bed, he ignored how she tried to shift further away from him. She failed, obviously, not being able to really move in the first place, "I saw what they did to you and I wasn't about to let them get away with it. I just needed...a little distraction." he gave her a half smile as if that explained the alarms she had heard and the guards running toward whatever was causing the alarms. The water in the bowl sloshed against the sides as he soaked a cloth for a moment. "Now, I guess, the real question is: what were you doing in the facility?" he pulled his attention away from the bowl of water and let his eyes settle on hers. If there was one person she always failed to hold eye contact with, it was Spencer. Those piercing, cold blue eyes not giving her any sense of safety in the slightest. Alarms went off inside her head, warning her not to give in, to trust him, to fall back into her past ways. He would end up hurting her all over again. And maybe this time, even worse than before.

"I don't remember." she muttered, eyes dropping down to the bed sheet that was currently covering her. Her fingers went to play with the edge, letting her notice how each finger had a tiny bandage wrapped around the nail area. A reminder of the rusty nails that had been shoved under the surface part of each finger as a way of torture. He let out a small, amused noise of disbelief.

"Awh, come on, Q, I know that's not true." he shook his head and rung out the excess water on the cloth. Setting the bowl on the nightstand and taking another sip of water from the glass, he then leaned over to press the damp cloth against her cheek, gently wiping away whatever apparent dirt and grime had been there, "You could never lie to me." he added, close enough for those eyes to pierce her soul and his whisper to send chills down her spine. She may have been saved, but she was still trapped.

"Stop." she moved her face away from his supposed action of comfort, "Just stop, Spencer." she swallowed hard, eyes darting to how he sat back and noticing the look of hurt that flash across his face and then how his features hardened. The last thing she wanted to do was make him angry. "Just...gimme a minute, please?" she managed out, wanting to get a second by herself to assess the damage caused by her stay in the Hydra facility, "I just need...to process it all." she found the words and watched him hesitate for a moment before nodding.

"Right, of course." he gave her a tight smile, one that showed her that he didn't quite believe her but he wasn't going to push it, "I'll get you something to eat." he told her, reaching out to lay a hand against her ankle and squeeze it quickly, "There's a change of clothes on the table. Let me know if you need any help." he gave her a flash of a smile and she nodded, shifting down more in the bed as if to cover herself or hide from him. Probably both.

Getting up from the bed, he took the glass of water first and finished it off. Then he grabbed the bowl of warm water and the cloth he had used, exiting the bedroom. She noticed how he left the door ajar; no doubt so that he could hear her from the kitchen area. Waiting a moment, she stayed in the bed until she heard sounds coming from down the hall. Just to be sure he wasn't lurking outside the door to see if she tried anything - which she wasn't honestly sure she would be able to.

Certain that he was actually in the kitchen getting her food, Q moved herself over to the edge of the bed. Slowly, she pushed herself up and out of the bed - careful to not strain herself since her entire body was screaming in pain. She bit her lip so not to make a noise; the last thing she needed was Spencer coming back before she could assess her situation and make a plan to escape.

As she moved to stand, she could feel a tightness around her side, shoulder and arms in general. She had to pause once she was on her feet; all the blood came rushing down from her head. The roll of her stomach made her close her eyes and take in a few deep, slow breaths. The cool air burned her lungs and sent a sharp pain to her sinuses. All she wanted to do was collapse back into the bed - God she was so tired. If she was anywhere else, or anytime else, she would figure she was hungover. And maybe she was. A Hydra hangover. Only she couldn't cure it with some Pedialyte and Ritz crackers.

Dressed in what seemed to be a hospital gown - one that was dirty, smelled and was ripped and stained with blue, she looked over to the stool by the mirror that had the clothes Spencer referenced on top. Shuffling over to the mirror first, Q got a good look at her reflection for the first time in however long it had been.

She wanted to be surprised by her appearance, anyone else would be. But instead she just felt numb. Almost feeling like  _of course this would be how she looked_. She had just spent however many days or weeks or months trapped and tortured in a Hydra facility. Of course she wasn't going to look like a princess.

Minor cuts and scrapes decorated her otherwise dry and dirty skin. Lips chapped and broken from lack of hydration. Knots had taken over her hair, making it seem like she had teased it too much rather than it being a side effect of trying to get out of the restraints. Speaking of restraints, they had been tight enough on her wrists to leave bruises - not to mention the wrapping of white gauze around them from where von Strucker had taken a red hot wire and burned the skin around her wrists until it broke.

Each glance at her body delivered a new memory of her time strapped to the chair. The bandage on her side from where von Strucker had hit her repeatedly with a club until the skin split. The slight burn marks on her temples from the electroshock "therapy" they had put her through. The darkened parts on her legs from where the restraints had been tight enough to cut off blood circulation.

There were the small marks littered up and down her arms, blossoming bruises a sign of the amount of times her skin had been pierced with a needle. A vial of something being pushed into her bloodstream, an IV of liquid to keep her hydrated just enough so that she wouldn't die, a blood test to see if whatever they were doing to her had any effect. She could connect the dots with her fingers, making constellations that had a more tragic backstory than the ones in the sky.

A strong headache had settled its weight against her. One that she thought would go away as she got used to the natural sunlight again, but it had just been pulsing aggressively with each passing hour. It made it hard to focus on anything except the pain both inside her body and outside. But what with the way her mind had been played with like Play Dough; molded and twisted to torture her in a way that she would never really heal from, unlike the other injuries, she knew it was something else she would have to deal with.

A part of her wanted to break down and cry. With all that she had been through, she deserved to. Not only was she in physical and emotional pain, she was also stuck in an apartment with her shitty ex-boyfriend, which was an entirely new kind of pain.

But no, she wasn't going to allow herself to do that quite yet. She needed to get out of the situation she was in. Find her way back to the beach house and back to Dawson. Dawson, who was probably worried sick about her and probably considering doing something he shouldn't. AKA, reach out to Steve or Nat just for some additional assistance. And as much as she wished Steve really was the one who had rescued her, she knew she wouldn't have been able to face him - nor did she wanted him to see her in the state she was in. The guilt he would feel would be insurmountable to the past guilt he had no doubt hung onto since she left. This wasn't his fault. It was hers. Only hers.

Re-dressing herself in the clothes Spencer had laid out for her made her feel a bit better than she had when she first woke up. It was a weird deja vu moment for her - dressing herself in her ex-boyfriends clothes. Something she used to do all the time in high school without a second thought. The sweats almost felt familiar and the t-shirt he had given her was stamped with their old high school logo which made a sour taste form in her mouth at the clear joke he was trying to land.

The weird memory shriveled up and died, turning into a painful reminder of a life past lived with him when she thought differently of the world and herself and her future. A time when she may have followed him down the path he had gone down on if not for what happened that fateful night where he left her with the dead body and a duffel bag full of things she wasn't supposed to have.

But otherwise, it was nice to be in real, clean clothes again.

Still having some time to herself, she moved over to the window to hopefully get a glimpse of her surroundings. She needed to know generally where she was: if she was in a city or a town, how high up the apartment was, what was close by, if it was a busy area, etc. etc. That way she would be able to know how much effort she needed to put in in order to escape. A quick look apartment was pretty high up in the building. While there was a metal balcony type thing on the outside of the window, it was only big enough for her to balance precariously on. There was a fire escape on the other side of the building, by a different window in a different room. An ornate church was in the distance, it's clock tolling the half hour, while there was a rather bustling town centre across and below. If she could make it there, she could disappear in the crowds and lose Spencer enough to give her time to figure out what city she was in.

Just the thought of her escaping was enough to make the headache throb. A reminder that she was in no position to be escaping quite yet. She had no strength whatsoever, using the frame of the window to hold herself up. She was still pretty hungover or sick or whatever it was, and her injuries weren't healed to a point where she could risk it and not have consequences. Spencer had said they were infected and a quick look under the bandages proved he was correct. She would have to wait, bide her time.

Though time seemed to have realized her predicament and was happy to send along a way for her to escape. Turning away from the window, she managed her way back to the bed. As much as she wanted to fall back into it, she knew she wouldn't be getting back up if she did. And she couldn't let that happen; the only way to get stronger was to push through it.

A crash from the other side of the door got her attention. She paused for a moment, wanting to hear if there were any follow up noises - thinking that Spencer just dropped something. But instead it was a heavy silence. Curious, she limped her way to the bedroom door, reaching out for it to hold herself up for a moment to regain enough energy to make it down the hall.

What she found at the end of the hall was enough to make her gasp. Crumpled up on the floor was an unconscious Spencer. Blood dripped from his nose, staining his shirt. Upon closer look, it was clear that he wasn't breathing. He was dead.

Staring at him for a long moment, she waited for the usual reactions that came with seeing a dead body, her dead ex-boyfriend for that matter. The horror never came, nor did the disgust or the nervousness that she was next. There wasn't even a tear of sadness that rolled down her cheek at the sight of her dead ex-boyfriend. She just felt numb. For a long time, she wished him dead. Everything that he had done to her, put her through and made her do, she wanted him dead. And now he was.

Holding onto the wall for support, she lowered herself down to get closer to Spencer. She half expected him to open his eyes, scare her and then laugh at her for thinking he was dead.  _Idiot_. But nothing like that happened. Other than the bloody nose, there were no other signs of a struggle or anything to make her think that someone had come in and killed him. Similar to how the victims of Bucky had been found. She reached out to touch him, wanting to see if it was real, but a rough voice stopped her,

"Don't." her head flicked up to see a man standing across the way, by the door. At the sight of him, her heart leapt to her throat. Not out of fear, like it probably should have, but out of relief, which was surprising. Though she was surprised; she certainly wasn't expecting him to be there. They stared at each other in silence for a long moment, both studying the other.

He held himself differently than the last time she saw him. Granted, back then, he had just finished a swim in the Potomac. It was clear the past several months in between hadn't treated him well - though not worse than the previous however many years before that.

Dressed in plainclothes, he wouldn't have gotten a second glance on the street. Which she figured was what he was going for with the subdued tones, that way he could blend in wherever he went. A modern day camouflage. One of his gloved hands was fidgeting like he was ready to run, but he stayed still otherwise. He was built rather stocky, whether it was muscles or because of the layers he had one, she wasn't sure. A baseball cap covered his head, only black stringy hair escaping from underneath and grazing his chin.

He swallowed hard, eyes searching her face, but beginning to cloud over like he was remembering something. She watched as his mouth opened a bit, something forming on the tip of his tongue before he clamped it shut and shook his head. Like he was trying to shake himself from a memory.

"You killed him." she stated, voice cracking but hopefully not in a way that would make him think she was upset about it. He hesitated before nodding once. "He wasn't on your hit list though." she added, remembering the list of names her program had come up with as potential victims.

"He was still working with them." While his explanation was simple and to the point, his voice was tight, as if the reference to Hydra was enough to make him uncomfortable. She nodded, looking back down at Spencer's face - it looked almost like he was sleeping.

"And what about me?" she asked, before forcing herself to lift her head again to look at him, "Are you going to kill me too?" she asked breathlessly, almost nervously. If he was working off technicalities then she fell in that category as well. Accidentally, but still in that category. A look of confusion flashed across his face and he shifted his stance a bit to become more open to her.

"No, no I would never hurt you." he sounded a bit confused, but she wasn't sure if it was because of her question or his answer. He blinked, turning his head to the side as if to think about his answer for a moment, as if he was remembering  _why_  he wouldn't hurt her. Though apparently it pained him to; his eyes squeezed shut and he let out a small groan of pain while a grimace slid over his face. A moment passed before his features shifted back into the stony serious one she had seen first, "We have to go." he moved on, position shifting into one of flight. His fists clenched and his eyes darted around the apartment, landing on each window for a moment before moving on. Expecting a threat to appear.

When Q didn't immediately move or respond to what he said, he took two quick steps over to her. While he didn't quite manhandle her, he got her to her feet. His left arm slid around her back to support her with a firmness and strength that was unlike any muscular human arm. He set her down for a moment, long enough to see that her center of gravity was off and she was having trouble holding herself up which would cause a problem. Immediately, he maneuvered her rather easily, and without causing her pain, onto his back resolving the situation. The next thing she knew, they were out the door.

If the natural sunlight was what gave her a headache, the sounds of the city didn't help make it any easier to deal with. She winced at the sounds, having to take it all in at once after spending however long in silence - only hearing the murmurs of Russian or the whirls of whatever tools they were going to use on her that day. He set her down gently, keeping the same left arm around her to steady her and help her walk over to a brick wall. Resting against it, she let her eyes drag over where they were: on the outskirts of the bustling city centre she had seen from the apartment. There were too many people, too many sounds, too many smells - just too much of everything.

Her eyes returned to him, seeing how he seemed to be just as agitated as she was. His eyes kept darting around, trying to get a good look at each person who passed them by. By the way he was standing, she knew all he wanted to do was run.

"Are you okay?" he suddenly asked, even though his attention was trained on the city centre in beside them. She managed a nod, though she certainly was  _not_  okay. Her lack of verbal response made him look back at her. His eyes scanned her from her head to her toes, lingering on certain spots like her temples or arms. The way he stared at the marks was enough to make her feel like he knew something she didn't or maybe he understood something a lot better than she did.

"Bucky…" she managed out, not noticing the flinch that rippled through his body at his name. All she wanted was to ask him so many things or at least thank him for saving her. She had done all this just to find him but somehow the tables turned and he found her instead. Not that it mattered though; she still had a chance to ask him everything she wanted to, finish the journey she had started on and maybe be able to return back to Steve.

"That's not who I am anymore." he stopped her from saying anything else. Though she wasn't sure she had in the first place, having trailed off due to exhaustion.

"Then who are you?" she asked, suddenly afraid that she was dealing with the Winter Soldier. The man from her nightmares. The man who had killed Steve. He stared at her for a long moment before shaking his head and then dropping it down. His right hand idly traced over the threads of the glove that covered his left hand.

"I don't know." he mumbled out, sounding unsure of himself. She shifted herself against the brick wall, trying to get a bit more comfortable.

Watching him get lost in his head for a moment, she noticed how his shoulders slumped like he was holding a weight he hadn't realized he was carrying. His right hand continued to twist and intertwine with the left hand, tracing a pattern that reminded her of the plates she had seen on his metal arm. He had held his breath since he had answered her, waiting for her to give him an answer to the question she had asked him.

"Then maybe you should figure that out." she quietly advised him, giving him a small smile. He let out something that resembled an amused scoff, eyes darting up to meet hers. Once again, they clouded over for a moment, his brow twitching as a semblance of a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. Again, like he was remembering a moment from a past life.

A sudden car horn cut through whatever small moment they were having. His whole body flinched and his fists immediately clenched. Head flicking toward the sound, his eyes scanned the area again for whatever threat he thought was to come after the horn. With a quick glance back to her, his eyes were suddenly wide with fear or panic, Q wasn't sure. All she knew was that he was moving backward, like a cat slinking away. Heading in the direction of the bustling city centre, he melted into the crowd without another word.

Pushing off the wall, she tried to follow him. She still had so much she wanted to talk to him about. Ask him about. She had a whole plan of what she would do when she found him. Of course it was useless now, but she figured she could salvage some of it. At least enough of it to get the answers she wanted. But he was gone. He had disappeared into the crowd that she was now trying to maneuver through.

Jostled by people on their way to different destinations, she tried to keep her balance and tried to ignore the pounding in her head.

"Oh shit, sorry." one apologized after bumping into her. He grabbed onto her arm to steady her and when Q glanced over to see who had spoken to her in English - later realizing she had been talking to Bucky in perfect Russian (a language she didn't know before her time in Hydra).

"Sam?" she squinted at the man in the sunshine, thinking she was hallucinating again, "Sam?" she asked again, blinking a bit to see that it was in fact Sam, "Oh my God, Sam." she collapsed into him, feeling him tighten under her semi-embrace before wrapping his arms around her as well - very surprised by seeing her. The last time they had seen each other was before she had moved to New York with Steve. He had stayed in DC to keep working at the Veterans' Association despite him being charged with aiding and abetting Steve in the fall of SHIELD.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, lifting her head up to look at him, "Did Steve send you?" she asked, hope growing in her despite knowing that it meant she had been found out and that Steve didn't care enough to come after her himself.

"Uh, no." he licked his lips, then swallowed, "No, I'm chasing a lead."

"A lead?" her brows furrowed, not sure what he meant by that. He looked over her for a moment before taking in a breath,

"Yeah, yeah, I'm, uh, trying to track down Bucky." he admitted. Surprise grew in Q; she didn't know Sam was looking for Bucky too. Why was he interested in him? "Steve asked me to handle it while he did Avengers stuff." he added on as an answer to her unasked question. Although surprised, she ended up letting out a laugh because  _of course_. Of course Sam was looking for Bucky because Steve asked him too. And of course, he ended up in the same place Bucky was moments before - only finding her instead. A little too late.

"Guess you weren't expecting to find me then, huh?" she managed out with another weak laugh. Sam raised his eyebrows and let out a slight scoff.

"I certainly was not, no." he agreed before his brows furrowed, "You look like shit, Q. Are you okay?" he sounded slightly concerned which continued to surprise Q all things considering. Steve wasn't the only person she had up and left without saying anything. Plus, she was certain Steve had told Sam what happened and maybe even complained to him too. And if anything, she knew Sam was undoubtedly loyal to Steve. So in terms of sides, she was sure he definitely took Steve's.

"Is there somewhere I can take you?" he asked a follow-up question after she didn't answer him. Her eyes met his and she knew how sincere his question was.

"Uh, yeah, actually there is." she gave him a small smile. He nodded in agreement without even knowing where it was she wanted to go.

* * *


	60. take a second

A loud, shrill beep came from the computer station, getting his attention. Moving from the kitchen area to the computers, Marina joined him from the hall.

"What the hell is that?" she asked, hands settling at her hips.

"The front door." Dawson replied under his breath. Fingers running over the keyboard, he pulled up the security camera to see who had found them. One glance at the screen was enough to shift his anxiety into relief. Moving to the door, Marina curiously following behind, he opened it as quickly as he possibly could.

"Oh thank fuck." he breathed out as soon as he came face to face with his best friend. He didn't even let her say anything, reaching out and pulling her into his arms in an uncharacteristic hug. A weight left his shoulders as he held her tightly against his chest. There had been so much worry and guilt that settled since she disappeared - and he wasn't sure he was ever gonna get rid of it considering he had just finished exercising his last option before calling in Nat and Rogers. But he didn't have to do that; she was here. There, in front of him, in his arms. Thank God.

His hand went to the back of her head, threading through her knotted waves while the other wrapped around her somehow even tinier waist. Whatever muscle mass she had gained in the past year since being in Odessa was gone. She was back to regular old Q, but almost worse. Ignoring the way she smelled of dirt and blood and something acidic, he kept his eyes closed, knowing he was going to hate seeing the effects of her stay with Hydra. It should've been him. She never should've gone in the first place, but her stubbornness was enough to drive him up a wall and lead him to agreeing to what she wanted. He regretted ever doing so.

Still, he took in a deep breath and pressed a kiss to the side of her face. Then, with a step back, he moved his hands so they could rest against her cheeks and finally met her eyes. They were already filling with tears and he felt the corners of his eyes prick with ones of his own. But now was not the time to be crying. Also, he didn't need  _that_ getting around; that he had cried when his best friend returned from Hydra. That wasn't very baller.

"You okay?" he asked the stupidest question he'd ever asked her in his life. Immediately, he regretted it; obviously  _no_  she wasn't okay. And she shook her head in response, not even bothering to hide her pain anymore. He took in a breath before trying to give her a strong smile, "But you're alive." he reminded her.

"I'm alive." she repeated, voice sounding completely shot. Like it had that time she got bronchitis for the third time in a row because she refused to take care of herself. She gave him a sad smile and he knew she was moments away from breaking down. So he pulled her into his arms and let her bury her face into his shoulder, not even bothering to comment how she was going to get his shirt all dirty.

The pair stayed connected for a moment before Q pulled back first. Using the back of her hand, she wiped the tears from her eyes and took in a breath. His eyes quickly darted over her, not exactly getting a full look but enough to make his stomach roll. Though she was in a seemingly fresh pair of clothes, she looked like she had been through hell. And technically she had been. It reminded him of how she looked when she first got to SHIELD: wild, but sharp eyes, hair knotted up, and completely strung out.

The bags under her eyes were dark enough to look like bruises - maybe they were, he couldn't tell. Her hands shook slightly as if she had drank six Red Bulls in a row while her body twitched every couple of seconds, and he assumed it wasn't in her control. Another wave of guilt rolled over him; she shouldn't look like that. He should've tried harder to find her, done more to figure out where the facility was, or even stopped her from going in the first place. Never had he felt like a more terrible person than right in that moment. Which was strange for him. Being sympathetic was not one of his character traits.

"Sam, you remember Sam, right?" her hoarse voice made his attention shift to the man standing behind her. He didn't even realize someone was there with her, being so focused on her. Sam, right, the guy who helped them take down SHIELD. Rogers' friend.

"Hey, man," Dawson reached out to shake his hand, met with a firm, strong handshake. An Army handshake, "Good to see you again." he added lamely, even though he wasn't sure if it  _was_ a good thing. Sam nodded in response, letting Q explain his presence.

"We, uh, we ran into each other." she continued vaguely, and Dawson knew there was more to the story than she was letting on, "And he offered me a ride back."

"Thank you, man." Dawson swallowed the lump in his throat, knowing that if Sam hadn't been there - wherever  _there_  was, then Q wouldn't be standing in front of him. Again, Sam nodded curtly, still keeping his mouth shut. A quick look from Q proved that Sam had a lot to say. He just wasn't going to do it quite yet; Q was the main concern.

"Let's get you inside." Dawson let his attention shift back to Q, putting a protective arm around her and guiding her into the beach house.

Marina was the one who helped her shower - Dawson and Q were close but not  _that_  close. And she didn't really help all that much; just sat on the toilet and made sure Q didn't faint or fall. An actual shower felt nice. She was finally able to rid herself of the grime and blood left by Hydra. While her body still ached all over, the warm water did wonders for her tense muscles. A part of her just wanted to stay under the steady stream of water for hours, not ready to face the scene currently gathering out in the living room.

Almost like the water knew this, it suddenly ran cold. Icicles shot through her bloodstream making her gasp in surprise. Quickly reaching for the handle to turn the shower head off, she let herself hiss in pain. While the warm water felt great against her aches and injuries, the icy water did nothing but remind her of them. And how sore they were exactly.

Helping her out of the shower, Marina trailed her to her room. Like a lost puppy. Q wanted to say she was fine, she didn't need any help and she certainly didn't need Marina hovering. But when she needed to take a breather just from walking a few feet from the bathroom to the bedroom, she reconsidered saying anything.

After slowly dressing herself in her own clothes, Q made her way back to the living room with Marina at her heels. Sam was lounged out on the loveseat. Clearly making himself at home for the time being. While Dawson was at the stove, spooning out giant clumps of bright orange mac and cheese into a bowl for Q. She had never been more grateful for him.

Being ushered to the couch, she curled up in her designated corner and let Marina drape a blanket over her shoulders. It was oddly strange to be fretted over, cared for, after spending however long only knowing torture in the form of Hydra. Or fake comfort for no doubt personal gain in the form of Spencer. The last time someone had taken care of her like this when she was injured was when she had sprained her ankle and Steve had taken care of her for the entire day. A pang of longing went through her heart at the memory of much simpler times, and how she wished she could be back there instead of oceans away.

Dawson crossed the room and handed her the bowl of mac and cheese with a spoon for her to use. She didn't bother to wait for it to cool down, immediately digging in and shoveling the food into her mouth. Ignoring the worried looks from her company, she finished the bowl in minutes flat. Yes, burning her entire mouth, but when was the last time she actually ate? She couldn't remember.

"How long," she asked after swallowing to clear her throat, "have I been…" she trailed off, not sure how to finish her question. Luckily, Dawson did it for her,

"In Hydra hell?" he raised his eyebrows up, reaching for her empty bowl so he could get her some more. Really he should've just given her the pot, "Twelve days." her stomach dropped at the amount of time she had been gone. She knew she had been stuck in there for a while, but twelve days was...a lot.

"What does he mean  _Hydra hell?_ " Sam interjected before Q could comment on Dawson's answer. Both shared a look before she answered him herself,

"I was, uh, taken, by Hydra." she responded simply. They hadn't talked much on the trip to the beach house. Q mostly slept the entire drive there. She half expected to wake up on a plane back to New York. But Sam had kept his word and taken her to the address she had given him.

"I'm sorry, what now?" his eyebrows were raised and his eyes wide. Glancing to Dawson, she realized now would be the best time to tell everyone what happened to her. Even though she really, really didn't want to talk about it.

But she did. And tried to ignore the paling of Dawson's face, the clenches of Sam's jaw or the way Marina fiddled with her fingers like she was in the most uncomfortable situation ever. She tried to keep it light and easy, but there was no sugarcoating what happened to her. The scars were there, both mentally and physically. All of them could see what a toll the torture had taken on her.

"Q, you need a hospital." Sam finally said after she had finished telling her story. She shook her head, ignoring the ringing in her ears as she did.

"No, no I'm okay." she gave him a small smile, hoping it would placate him enough to let it go. It didn't. He leaned forward, elbows settling on his thighs as his hands folded into each other.

"I'm serious, Q, you need to get yourself checked out. Make sure those injuries are healing properly and they didn't put anything in your system that could harm you." he explained, as if Q didn't already know that and was a hundred percent certain they had in fact put something in her body. But they had the tools they needed in the beach house to flush out anything that needed to get out and there was always Marina's doctor friend if it became serious. "Why aren't you concerned about this?" he asked, taking her lack of response as an actual response.

"Cause…" she took in a breath that made her ribs ache before letting it out again, "Cause I don't need anyone figuring out where I am." she kept it vague enough not to flat out say it, but knew Sam was smart enough to get it.

"I know where you are." he pointed out. A part of her thought it was a threat or a warning of some sort, which is what she went with in her reaction to his comment,

"And I hope you'll keep it to yourself." she kept her eyes on his, holding his stare steady for a moment before he shook his head slightly and looked away. Obviously displeased by the fact that he would have to keep a secret from Steve, but still somewhat agreeing to.

"What else did you see in there?" Dawson asked, changing the subject. Q took in a breath, letting her hand run through her hair before it settled on top of her head.

"It's all hazy." she sighed, "There was this woman there. With some sort of enhancements. She made me see all kinds of fucked up visions." she shook away the memory of Steve dying over and over again in her arms, not wanting to spiral down into that again, "But the scepter was there." she realized, sitting up a bit, "Loki's scepter."

"The one from New York?" Dawson asked, eyebrows raising.

"You mean the dude who let all those aliens into New York?" Sam asked at the same time. A reminder that Sam was still just a civilian back then. Marina had no idea what any of them were talking about. She remembered the news coverage, but only used it to her advantage to take her shot at firms and banks whose networks were down because of the attack.

"Yeah, that one." she answered both of their questions at once, pairing it with a nod.

"You sure?" both men spoke at the same time, in the same questioning tone, before looking at each other momentarily and then shifting their gaze back to Q. Again, she nodded. There wasn't much she could separate from being real or not, but the vision she was shown in Stark Tower wasn't a memory, meaning it had to have been triggered by something she saw in real life during her drugged out state.

"Steve mentioned they were looking for it." Sam casually commented, not noticing how Q's heart pulled at the mere  _mention_  of Steve. Instead of lingering on another sudden wave of longing that washed over her, she offered up a trade.

"I'll tell you the exact location of the scepter, if you promise not to tell him where we are." she bargained, lifting her chin up a bit, almost challengingly. Sam eyed her for a long moment before nodding.

"Okay." he agreed. He didn't know why he agreed. Maybe because it seemed like Steve was actually getting a bit better with handling Q's disappearance. Maybe because he wanted to save his friend the heartbreak of seeing her in her current state. Or maybe the scepter just outweighed her importance to him - that one wasn't true, he knew that much.

Tying up the rest of the story, and ending with how Sam had found her, she purposely left out the part about Bucky and Spencer. There was no reason for him to know how close he actually was to finding him, or what Q was actually doing on her adventure. Best to let him think she was just going after Hydra operatives like Nick Fury had tried to recruit him into doing a year prior.

"You know you caused a lot of pain." Sam mentioned to her as he was getting ready to leave. He had stayed for the rest of the day, making sure she was well taken care of in the house before deciding to leave. She might not be his favorite person at the moment, but with all that she had been through, he wasn't about to leave her in a place where something worse could happen. Though it seemed like she was with people who were just as worried about her as he was. She gave him a tight smile and nodded.

"I know." her voice was quiet, heavy with all the guilt she had been carrying since she left New York.

"What you did...was shitty and selfish." he continued to lay it on thick, finally getting the chance to say something to her since they were alone and she was awake and fully functional again. Again, she nodded, not having the words to defend herself. And she wasn't sure she wanted to; he was right, "He almost drove himself mad trying to find you those first few weeks. Then he was just  _pissed_. A lot of things broke." she tried to contain her flinch at the thought of him taking his anger out on some of the things they had bought together for the Avengers floor they lived on, "Went to DC a few times actually." her interested piqued at that, knowing that Peggy was still at Sunrise. At least he was still visiting her.

"And now?" she raised her eyebrows, nervous for the answer. Sam let out a heavy sigh, hands slipping into his pockets.

"He misses you, Q. A lot more than he'd like to admit." he settled on with a small smile, "And while he might seem like he's moving on...he's still looking for you." he finished with a knowing look. And while that made her heart flutter a bit, she still took in a breath and looked off to the side for a moment before her attention returned to him,

"Just keep him safe, alright, Sam?" he hesitated before nodding, hoping to have gotten something else out of her. Awkwardly, he moved closer to give her an equally awkward hug. While they had a mutual friend in Steve and found themselves stuck in situations together, she never really got to  _know_  Sam on a one to one basis. Sure, she learned all about him when doing recon or see him when he came to the hospital to check on Steve while he was recovering, but there was a difference between learning about someone via files and learning about someone by being around them for long periods of time. Her time with Steve proved that. She wished for the day they could just hang out like two normal people. Maybe one day.

"Take care of yourself. Maybe see a real doctor, yeah?" he raised his eyebrows at her once he stepped out of the hug. She matched his expression, watching as he went for the front door, and not really agreeing cause that would never happen.

Even though she wasn't going to a hospital anytime soon, Marina set up their own personal clinic in the spacious living room. For the next few days, she was sentenced to the couch so she was in a central place where they could keep an eye on her. She had easier access to the bathroom and kitchen so she didn't have to wear herself out from walking to and from her bedroom.

Dawson, both intrigued and horrified by what she went through in the facility, wanted to run some tests on her. Blood samples were drawn by finger pricks and vitals were taken before Marina carefully (terribly) inserted an IV to flush out whatever was in her system then went into town for more bandages and antibiotics.

"How many days did you say I was gone again?" she questioned while checking out the bruising on her sides. He snorted; she made it sound like she had just gone on vacation rather than what had actually happened.

"Twelve." he repeated what he said originally. Counting backward, Q tried to figure out how many days it could've been since she had gotten her bruises. The smaller ones were already healed while the bigger ones were yellowing around the edges as they healed. It made sense that the bruises were healing already but a part of her thought that they were going a  _bit_  too quickly given their sizes.

Not to mention, the small marks against her skin from the various needle intrusions had disappeared as well and while the hangover was still lingering, it wasn't as bad as it was when she woke up at Spencer's. Maybe all she needed was a good nights' sleep.

But she hadn't really been sleeping since her return to the beach house. Spending a lot of nights awake, staring out the big living room windows and watching the ocean waves crash against the shore. The white noise should've put her right to sleep but her brain was buzzing as she tried to work through everything she had been through in the past twelve days. And for some reason, he thoughts always turned back to Steve. Sometimes she wondered if he was awake at the same time she was, missing her like she missed him. Regret colored her emotions; now more than ever did she hate herself for leaving him. A big part of her wanted to fix it.

"Hey, did anything else weird happen to you?" Dawson's voice got her attention, hearing how it was colored with confusion and a slight twinge of worry. She looked away from the living room windows, turning her body so she could face him fully without tweaking her neck. He was peering at her from over his computer station, the glow from the screens enough to illuminate his face in the otherwise dark room.

"Weird how?" she wanted clarification; plenty of weird things happened to her in the last twelve days.

"Like after Hydra. Before Sam." he waved his hand in the space between the time marks he had vocally set up. Taking in a breath, Q sat herself up a bit more so she could get a better view of her friend,

"Yeah, actually." she breathed out before telling Dawson about Spencer and Bucky. He listened with raising eyebrows, each sentence seeming to shock him even more than the last. "And the  _weird_  part is that I realized we were speaking Russian the whole time. I don't even know Russian!" she lifted her hand that didn't have an IV currently attached to it in the air and Dawson let his mouth open a bit.

" _That's_ the weird part!?" he cried out, throwing his hands up, "Q, you literally  _found the dude we've been searching for."_ he pinched his fingers together and motioned with him at her.

"Technically he found me." she corrected, gaining an eye roll and an annoyed groan from him.

"You still interacted with him!" he shouted back, pretty much getting out of his chair in an effort to contain his reaction. "What was he like? Where is he now?" he rattled off a few questions and Q took a moment before answering,

"He was...confused." she settled on, thinking it was the best way to explain what she saw. A man who hadn't been himself for a long time and wasn't sure how to be now that he could be. "And he got spooked and disappeared. I'm not sure where he went." she frowned, remembering how Bucky melded into the crowd like the ghost story he really was.

"Well he's gotta still be in the area, right?" Dawson moved back to his computer terminal, already pulling up a location search, "We can find him before he leaves."

"I'm sure we can." she responded with a tired sigh, which got his attention, "I just...can we just take a second though?" she asked, letting her eyes meet his.

"Sure," he hesitated for a second before continuing, "I mean, if we do, we might lose him again and we're just so close, I -"

"I know, Daw, I know." she reached up to rub her forehead, feeling her headache return, "But with everything that I just went through...I need a second to recover." Again, it was enough to make him pause, momentarily forgetting about Q's ordeal. He swallowed back the lump in his throat and nodded,

"Yeah, of course, smart." he gestured to her before placing his hand on his hip, "Get your strength back up." he amended with a quick reassuring smile to her, "We'll find him again." She could tell he was disappointed with her decision; the sooner this adventure was over, the sooner he could get back to what he had left behind and try to salvage whatever was left. But she needed to take a breather. The whirlwind of the past twelve days and change had left her in a state that she needed to heal from.

"What was it that you found?" she asked, reminding him of his original question. His eyebrows rose and he crossed back to his computer station. Transferring whatever it was onto his tablet, he moved to the couch she was set up on so he could show her what was on the screen.

"This is a blood sample from your days at SHIELD, rest in peace," he added half sarcastically while showing her the first picture, "And this is your blood sample now." he swiped his finger across the screen to show her the second photo, "Whatever they did to you, it mutated your blood cells in some way."

"In  _what_  way?" she asked out, panic already rising. Dawson gave her a serious look before dropping the bomb.

"I think they injected you with some form of the super soldier serum, Q."


	61. a thousand unanswered questions

" _Sure you don't need an extra hand?"_  Sam asked over the line. Even though Steve knew he couldn't see him, he still shook his head.

"It's not gonna be a fight." he assured his friend, hearing his scoff from the other end.

" _Whatever you say, man."_  his tone made it clear he didn't believe him. From what he and the other Avengers had come up with plan-wise, it didn't seem like it was going to be too hard to get into the Hydra facility and retrieve the scepter. Their plan was to come from the woods, use the cover of the trees to mount a surprise attack on the facility. No one would see them coming.

"Where'd you say you got the tip from again?" he found himself asking. Sam never did mention how he found out about the scepter being held in the Hydra facility a few weeks prior. Not that it  _completely_ mattered since his information had been correct, but for some reason Steve felt that his friend was keeping something from him.

" _Just from someone I ran into while chasing down another cold lead."_ he answered airily, sounding sarcastic enough to tease Steve about the supposed mission he was on: tracking down Bucky while Steve handled Avengers things. But still, Steve pushed for an answer.

"Sam…" he trailed off, adapting his Captain-tone. He heard him pause for a moment before taking in a deep breath.

" _Sure you wanna know?"_ the way he sounded was enough to make Steve's ears perk up. What wasn't he telling him?

"Of course." he responded quickly, a rock of nerves solidifying in his stomach. Who was his source? Was it going to affect the op or make them doubt the solid tip Sam had gotten?

"... _It was Q, man."_ Sam finally spoke, his voice heavy.

At the sound of Q's name, Steve braced himself for the pang of sadness to strike through his heart as it almost always did whenever he was reminded of her. But instead of sadness, it was concern. Worry.

"Q?" he repeated, wanting to make sure he had heard him correctly, "When did you see Q?"

" _...A few weeks ago."_ the pauses kept getting longer before answers, which was understandable. Sam had kept a massive secret from him for a few weeks. He knew where Q was - or had been, for several weeks and instead chose to tell him about Loki's goddamn scepter.

"Sam - what? Why the fuck didn't you tell me this?" Steve pressed the phone against his ear a bit harder as if that would help him hear his friend's explanation better. Sam let out a heavy sigh before going with the truth,

" _She asked me not to."_ he admitted, " _I'm sorry, Cap. I should've told you. That was my bad."_ Although he was grateful for Sam's apology, he had more questions he wanted answers to. Answers Sam could probably (hopefully) give.

"Where was she? Is she okay? What is she doing over there?" he shot off his round of questions like bullets from a chamber. This was the first time he could get anywhere close to a vague update and location on her.

" _Somewhere outside of Sokovia."_ Sam tried to answer them as best as he could, but it just gave him more questions. He certainly didn't expect her to be all the way in Eastern Europe, that's for sure. She had never left the country before, now suddenly she was a world traveler? " _I guess she was at the facility for some time trying to take down whatever Hydra operatives were there…"_ Right, Fury had mentioned something like that to him while they were standing at his grave after SHIELD had collapsed. Steve had said no, so it made sense that he had turned to Q, but why had she taken up the mission? Before he could ask, what Sam said next made him pause, " _She looked...bad, Cap. I think Hydra got to her for a few days."_ His heart began to sink, joining the rock in his stomach. The thought that she had been under the hands of Hydra for even just an hour was enough to make his throat tighten up with worry. He only got a glimpse at what Hydra did to Bucky...if they had done anything remotely similar to Q...he wasn't sure anyone would be able to stop him from doing something in return.

Sam's words settled on his shoulders for a long time. It was all he could think about. Imagining the terrible, horrible things she had been put through at the facility. No longer did Sam's secrets matter; the only thing that mattered was that Q was okay. She was alive, according to Sam, but he stressed that she didn't want him to know about what happened. Steve couldn't understand why, but hell, he didn't understand a lot of things Q did.

Even so, Q's intel was right. The mission to retrieve the scepter proceeded as planned. Unlike he thought, it did turn into a firefight, almost as if they were expecting them. The snowy mountain forest of Sokovia was one thing to get through in order to make it to the facility. The armed guards dressed in camouflage and using Chitauri tech on them didn't make it any easier. Steve disarmed one of them, taking his motorcycle and using it as a vehicle to get through the forest a bit faster while Nat and Clint hijacked a rover and Tony and Thor stuck to the skies. Hulk was more than happy to just bust through trees, knocking down whatever was in his path - guards included.

Using his shield, he was able to quickly knock out whoever tried to come at him, defending himself from the blasts and weaving his way through the trees and over the small hills of snowy forest floor. Loud energy explosions echoed around him, paired with the screams and yells of those being taken down by any one of the Avengers. He never really saw what each of them were doing, trusting that it was what he had told them to do before they jumped into battle. Banner let the Hulk take over in an effort to take out more guards and bunkers. Per usual, Nat and Clint were paired together; they worked off each other much better than any of the other Avengers. Thor was tasked with clearing as many as the sniper towers he could. And since he was another one with the capability to fly, Tony was to get to the facility.

" _Shit!"_  Tony's voice filtered through the comm in Steve's ear.

"Jar." he immediately responded without even thinking, but left no pause for anyone to call him out on it, "JARVIS, what's the view from upstairs?" he asked quickly while glancing around to keep an eye out for any camouflaged soldiers coming his way.

" _The central building is protected by some kind of energy shield. Strucker's technology is well beyond any other Hydra base we've taken. Loki's scepter must be here. Strucker couldn't mount this defense without it."_ JARVIS explained. The others chimed in with their comments about the scepter and how they had clearly lost the element of surprise. Something they were banking on when they touched down in the mountains.

Getting to a path that seemed like a road which led straight to the facility, Tony's voice filtered through his ear - finally getting a chance to call him out.

" _Wait a second. No one else is gonna deal with the fact that Cap just said 'jar?'"_ he asked, almost goading the others to join in on teasing him for the comment.

"I know." Steve sighed, narrowly avoiding a blue energy blast that struck the tree diagonal from him. Coming up on the path was a large armoured military vehicle, filled with a large group of Hydra soldiers who were armed with Chitauri tech. Pitching his body forward, Steve flipped himself over the motorcycle handles and launching it at the vehicle. As he landed on his feet, the motorcycle slammed against the truck, sending it and the men inside flying. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he looked toward the direction of the facility.

"Just slipped out." he sighed dejectedly, almost hating himself a bit for that being his immediate reaction to a curse word. He hadn't thought about his and Q's little game for a very long time, even during times when other Avengers would let a few curse words slip. Maybe it was because she was on his mind - what with the facility where she had been held in being so close.

" _What does that even mean?"_ Tony asked, not letting it go, " _Jar?"_ he repeated what Steve had said in an almost confused tone. Steve didn't feel up to explaining it, he didn't have the heart to talk about his former ex-girlfriend in the middle of a fight.

" _Like a swear jar."_ Luckily, he didn't have to. Nat had filled in for him in the vaguest way possible, even though she knew the full story behind it, " _Put a dollar in the jar once we're finished here, yeah, Tony?"_ she added, letting her tone make it clear not to push the conversation further. The topic seemed to drop, which Steve was grateful for, and he refocused on taking out whatever soldiers had survived the crash so that his mind wouldn't go to Q.

The firefight continued, going as most missions with the Avengers did - smoothly. Until, Steve felt a strong gust of wind against him and the next thing he knew, he was in the air. Luckily, he was able to rotate his body rather quickly so he landed on his feet rather than on his ass, but still it was startling. He hadn't been knocked off his feet that quickly or aggressively in a long while. His eyes were already flicking around the immediate area to see who or what had managed to surprise him in such a way. But there was nothing surrounding him except trees and snow and unconscious or dead Hydra soldiers.

"We have an Enhanced on the field." Steve relay the message to his other teammates quickly. He had read about the testing Hydra had done in the base during the recon meeting, but never seen it first hand. And he hadn't quite seen it first hand yet either. Just felt it.

" _Clint's hit!"_ Nat's voice answered him, unconcerned with the Enhanced and caring more about her friend. He heard her ask for someone to take care of the bunker that was no doubt shooting at them, then a loud explosion followed making it clear that someone  _had_.

Focused on getting closer to the facility, Steve used his shield to take out some of the soldiers who were advancing toward him. Tossing it like a boomerang, he was able to bounce it off one and then another before it came hurtling back to him. In one smooth motion, he launched himself in the air to catch it - spinning as he did so the force of the shield coming back to him wouldn't knock him sideways, before bringing it down hard against a still standing soldier. Explosions continued to echo around him, missed shots setting trees on fire or grunts of pain coming from the hits he delivered.

"Stark!" he called out as he slid down enough to swing his shield and knock one soldier off his feet before pushing himself up to swing back at one behind him, "We really need to get inside." he grunted out.

" _I'm closing in."_ Tony assured him and a few moments later he informed them that the, " _Drawbridge is down, people."_ A loud force of energy shook the ground enough to make Steve glance over to see Thor a few yards away from him.

"The Enhanced?" Thor questioned as Steve jogged up to him. He let out a sigh, looking around at the damage Thor had done - taking out a large group of soldiers with just a hit of his hammer,

"He's a blur." Steve shook his head, "All the new players we've faced, I've never seen this." he glanced around the rest of the forest as if the Enhanced would suddenly appear, "In fact, I still haven't."

" _Clint's hit pretty bad guys."_ Nat got their attention, " _We're gonna need evac."_ He shared a look with Thor, who nodded,

"I can get Barton to the jet. The sooner we're gone, the better. You and Stark secure the scepter." Thor delegated and Steve nodded in response,

"Copy that." he agreed, watching as a large group of soldiers, tanks and other guards came running up the hill. All of them formed a line as some sort of defense, but Thor saw it as nothing but something that amused him.

"Looks like they're lining up." Thor commented with a slightly joking tone. Steve huffed and then shrugged,

"Well, they're excited." he quipped, getting in position. Thor and he had practiced the move for a long while, seeing that it was easier to take out a large group of enemies at once rather than expending the energy to take them out one by one. He twirled his hammer in a fast circle while Steve raised his shield up. With a hard hit, Thor used the shield as a launch pad, bouncing the lightning energy off it so it reverberated further and stronger than normal. It knocked all of the soldiers off their feet and managed to flip the tank over onto it's back.

"Find the scepter." Thor directed before spinning the hammer enough to let it take him into the air.

" _And for gosh sake, watch your language! Might have to give a dollar to the jar."_ Tony chided teasingly in his ear. Steve sighed heavily, knowing he had just subjected himself to a boatload jokes at his expense. And it wasn't like he was about to admit  _why_  he had said what he said; that would just make it entirely worse

"That's not going away any time soon." he muttered to himself before taking off down the path he had just cleared with Thor.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting when he got to the facility itself. Almost all the guards on the outside had been taken out by Tony so it was relatively easy to get into the building itself. It was cold, much colder than it was outside in the snow, and eerily quiet - probably because of Tony. As he explored the facility, his thoughts couldn't help but turn to Q. Where had she been kept? What had they done to her? Just imagining her stuck in a place like the facility was enough to make his stomach churn and his heart ache. Why had she even come there in the first place? She wasn't a field agent, much less  _wanted_  to be one either. Did Fury coerce her into doing something she didn't want to?

A thousand unanswered questions ran through his head as he walked the halls of the facility, easily taking out whatever guards had been leftover. Questions he'd probably never get the answers to; Sam only knew so much and Fury had disappeared into the shadows around the same time Q had. He would have to suffer in the unknown. Just like he had been doing since she had left him.

Staying hidden in the shadows, Wanda watched the man dressed like some sort of American symbol explore the facility. He looked familiar. Possibly because she recognized him from the television: he worked with Stark...the Avengers. But that was the man in the uniform. She somehow knew him on a much deeper level too.

From the woman they had kept in the facility, she realized. The woman she was able to use as a toy. Her mind was full of various memories of the man currently exploring the facility. Memories she had used to her advantage in order to break the woman down enough for von Strucker to continue his experiments. Though he never got the chance to because their security measures were breached and the woman was taken away. Something Wanda was punished for.

Not that  _that_  mattered. What mattered was the man in front of her. She wondered if he cared for her as much as the woman cared about him. Itching for a quick peek, Wanda felt the tendrils of energy twist out of her fingertips. But before she could do anything von Strucker revealed himself, coming up the stairs without knowing that the man was there. Kicking out a guard, the man's action was enough to make von Strucker stop. The two men came face to face and both paused in a tense silence. She knew he was going to give up, but there was no way she was going to as well. Not with her brother still out in the mountain forest. This was their chance at freedom.

"Baron Strucker. Hydra's number one thug." Steve casually greeted the monocled man. At his title, von Strucker gave him a slight smile,

"Technically, I'm a thug for SHIELD." he corrected him while they circled each other.

"Well, then  _technically_ you're unemployed." he raised his eyebrows before continuing with his line of questioning, "Where's Loki's scepter?"

"Don't worry, I know when I'm beat." von Strucker tilted his head to the side, both of them facing each other, "You'll mention how I cooperated, I hope." he tried to bargain with Steve, who wasn't one to take plea deals from Nazis.

"I'll put it right under  _illegal human experimentation._ " the words tasted sour in his mouth when he realized that Q was in a place where people were experimented on. Had she been experimented on too? "How many are there?" he asked with a lift of his chin. Before von Strucker could answer, a woman melted out of the shadows. Red energy snaked out of her fingers, twirling its way toward Steve.

Instinctively, he lifted his shield, even though he knew it wouldn't do any good. He wasn't sure what happened next, but the world shifted enough for him to feel off balance. A large cloud of the red energy pushed him down a flight of stairs with more force than he thought it had. Quickly rolling to his feet, his eyes landed on the woman again with her long, stringy brown hair and her eyes lined like a raccoon. She stared him down, watching as he climbed the stairs back up to where she was with von Strucker. Though somehow she managed to scurry back away from his grasp, letting the red tendrils slither their way toward him before shutting the large steel doors in front of her. With a blink of his eyes, the woman was gone, escaped before Steve could lay a hand on her.

"We have a second Enhanced. Female. Do not engage." he said into his comm, unsure what the woman could do, but knowing it wasn't good.

"You'll have to be faster than -" Steve quickly cut von Strucker off with a well placed stomp to his shield so that it bounced off the ground and hit him directly in the head, knocking him out. The glass of the monocle clattered to the ground with a  _ting!_

"Guys, I got Strucker." he communicated to his team, eyes on the unconscious Hydra scientist at his feet. Maybe he could tell Steve what exactly he had done to Q.

Waiting for von Strucker to wake up, Steve stayed in the back of the transport vehicle with him and two other guards that were on his side. The van and the guards were sent to take von Strucker to the separate quinjet that would transfer him to whatever jail he would rot in for the rest of his life. Steve didn't know the specifics, all he wanted to know was what the hell he did to Q.

Impatient, he kicked his foot out and jostled the Hydra scientist awake. Blinking a few times, von Strucker came around and noticed where he was: handcuffed to a bench, sandwiched between two burly guards with guns that didn't answer to him. He let out a low chuckle, even though the situation was far from funny, before his eyes landed on Steve.

"You hurt a lot of people." Steve said lowly, getting straight to the point, "A lot of innocent people."

"The same argument could be made for what you did in World War two, Captain." von Strucker responded smoothly, lifting his chin up a bit defiantly, "How many died in the crossfire as you tried - and failed - to rid the world of Hydra?" he asked with an eyebrow raise. Steve ignored him and the guilt that was inching closer, ready to drape around him like a cloak of darkness.

"You had a woman, one you were experimenting on." he prompted, "She was a former SHIELD agent." he tried to be more detailed without giving away too much. He didn't need von Strucker to know how important she was to him in case there was something he didn't know about, something to be used against him. But it was enough to pique his attention. Good, he knew who Steve was talking about, "What did you do to her?" he asked straightly, not in the mood for games. And he didn't have much time either; he could hear his teammates in his comms discussing meeting at the exfil point - Tony had the scepter.

"The same thing I did to the others who are now gifted. Unlocked her potential." von Strucker answered evenly, scarily, like the villain he was. Steve repressed the shiver going through his body. He hated how von Strucker sounded as he talked about Q, like she was a victory for him, "But she was taken away before we could really see what she how it affected her. Pity, really." he finished with a disappointed sigh. Steve leaned forward, wanting to ask how what affected her and where she was taken, but the crackle of his comm got his attention.

" _Rogers, where are you?"_ Nat asked, " _We're waitin' on you."_ While her tone was light, it held a bit of weight to it. He knew he was out of time. He couldn't keep them waiting. It would cause more questions he didn't -  _couldn't_  answer. His time with von Strucker was up.

Unbeknownst to Steve, he was a lot closer to Q than he had been in over a year. At least in the same country. Getting adjusted to being a "super soldier" was taking a lot longer than she thought it would. And it wasn't an immediate change either. She didn't wake up one day and miraculously become a super soldier. Whatever was in the serum that was pumped into her hurt. It made her stomach roll, her muscles ache and her head pound. Sometimes, she woke up with splitting headaches while other times she could barely keep water down. She was so tired all of the time too, but couldn't sleep because nightmares of her time strapped to the chair haunted her.

Days turned to weeks and slowly, they were able to figure out  _just_ how her body had taken in the serum. While she didn't have super speed or super strength, she was able to heal a bit faster than normal and Dawson had came to the conclusion that it also meant her aging had slowed down. Her mind was sharper too, being able to recall whatever she had read or seen or heard. Her senses were turned up, allowing to be aware of a lot more than she normally was. She might not be a  _full_ super soldier, but she was close enough to one. Which was a weird transition.

"I mean, your brain waves look the same as last week." Dawson commented while his eyes stayed on his tablet, "Still having a baseline that's super high in the gamma frequency." he showed her the screen and she let out a sigh. A sign that her brain function was at peak mental state; a simultaneous processing of information from different parts of the brain. She wasn't even doing anything, just sitting in silence with wires attached to her head. "What are you thinking about?" he asked, turning the tablet back to himself. She shrugged, letting her hands fall in her lap.

"Nothing and everything." she admitted, earning a slightly amused scoff from him. She grumbled to herself, trying to ignore him; it was the truth.

Her brain was going a mile a minute trying to take in everything that was going on: the sounds of the ocean behind them and Dawson tapping at his tablet, the smells of the salty beach air and the lingering scent of popcorn, and even the way the adhesive of the stickers on her head felt and the feel of the blanket covering her lap. And those were just presently, at that moment, things she had to deal with, not even going into the way her mind was associating certain things with past memories or even her constant thoughts about Steve.

Taking in a breath, she refocused on quieting her mind, wanting to get the hang of dealing with everything going on inside her head. Try and categorize it as much as she could. The sounds, scents and feelings of her surroundings into one part of her brain, the memories and random thoughts into a separate part. Ones to focus on versus ones that weren't that important.

Dawson's loud cheer of success made her suddenly jump. She must've gotten her levels down quite a bit. Having been so focused on calming her mind down, she didn't even realize how literally quiet it had actually gotten. She might have gone too far and the consequences of it came speeding at her like a bullet train. All of a sudden, she was assaulted with all the different sounds, smells and things touching her. A sharp sting cut through her head from one temple to the other, causing her to cry out in pain and reach up to rip the wires off her head - as if they were burning her, even though they weren't doing anything at all.

"Shit, are you okay?" he asked, all traces of celebration gone from his voice. She winced and went to rub at her temples, trying to focus on one thing as the aggressive headache started to fade.

"Yeah, I just….this is a lot harder than I thought." she sighed, keeping her hands at her head and slumping down a bit. She knew it would take a bit to get used to everything, but at some points it was just too overwhelming.

"Is there anything I can do?" he was trying to be helpful, she knew that, but it was also weird for him to  _be_ helpful when it wasn't directly serving him.

"I'm okay." she waved off his offer and then shook her head a bit as if that would help her re-center, "I think I'm done with this for today." she twirled the wires in the air, letting them wrap around her fingers. She was tired of feeling like a lab rat for the time being.

Moving from the couch, she exited the living room to go to her bedroom and left Dawson in the living room to record their data. Previously, that would be something she would have control over - not wanting him to fuck it up, but currently, she just didn't have the strength or interest in it to do so. She just wanted to be alone, somewhere where there wasn't a bunch of different things to focus on.

Enough time had passed since she had gotten back to the beach house that she was allowed to move back to her bedroom. Regaining her sense of privacy allowed her to feel a bit more comfortable and being comfortable was an important step in dealing with her newfound abilities.

Not that she was sure there was any use to them. Sure she could heal from a paper cut much faster than before, and maybe live past a certain age, but the mess inside her head was one she was still trying to figure out. At the very least, she understood why Bucky was acting on such high alert when he rescued her. There was so much going on, it was hard to determine what was important to focus on versus what wasn't. If Hydra had used a similar serum on both of them, then the side effects had to be the same - or at least close to it.

Going into the cabinet under her nightstand, she pulled out a bottle of whiskey. Advanced healing aside, she had experimented enough through the past weeks to know just how much alcohol was enough to dull the mess inside her head. She couldn't get as drunk as she once could, (though she was working on it), but she could at least get a little buzzed, which was all she needed at that point.

The cold wind nipped at her cheeks as she settled herself on the deck chair outside of her room. Winter had supposedly passed a few weeks before, but there were still plenty of cold spring days. Though she started running a bit warmer than she had before, she still wrapped a long cardigan around her out of habit. The ocean waves crashed against the shore on the otherwise cloudy day while her thoughts turned to Steve.

They almost always did whenever she tried to work through what she suddenly was considered: a super soldier. Either because she missed him or because she was relating his super soldier-ium to hers. And sometimes it was both. He could be the one person who could really, genuinely help her through this - having been the original super soldier. Maybe he had some trick to help with certain things, even though she already knew firsthand how he dealt with the things inside his head.

Still, it'd be nice to at least  _talk_ to him about it. There wasn't much they had in common before, but this was now one massive thing. Something she never thought they  _would_  share in common and certainly not the best thing to be able to relate with either. But maybe he would have some advice at least.

With that in mind, her hand slipped into her cardigan pocket to pull out her phone. She went into her recent calls, seeing all the missed ones from Steve since she had left New York. His voicemails were still there, but it had been a while since she had listened to any. Instead of bringing her comfort, they just hurt her. There were so many times he had tried to make contact, extend an olive branch of sorts, and she had just completely ignored him. Which was a guilt she'd have to live with forever.

Before she knew what was happening, her thumb had tapped his contact name. The screen faded into one that showed a call being made. To Steve.


	62. never seen, never heard

The phone in his hand had been softly, rhythmically vibrating for several moments. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to press either of the buttons that were lit up as options for him. One to answer, one to deny. The caller ID was blocked, but only about ten people had his number and half of them were taking up space in the quinjet with him. Deep down, he knew who it was.

Before, he had been looking forward to this moment. The moment when she finally returned his countless voicemails. He imagined what she would say, what  _he_ would say and the countless directions the conversation would take. He could be angry, upset, forgiving, or whatever else came to mind. But at that moment, with his phone vibrating in his hand, he didn't feel any of what he had felt in the past. All there was, was dread, and a little bit of confusion.

Not that he dreaded talking to Q, it was just that he dreaded hearing the impact of whatever happened to her, and learning what they did to her in the Hydra facility. He wasn't prepared to handle that quite yet.

And the confusion came second; why was she calling him  _now_  at all times. She had plenty of time before to give him a call back - and get a quicker response than the slow reaction time it was taking him then.

That being said, his slow reaction time caught up to him. The call, as quickly as it appeared on his screen, disappeared. Screen turning dark, Steve immediately swiped his finger over the surface to light it up again. There was no sign of her missed call nor any voicemail he could listen to. She had made the decision for him and hung up. Damnit.

Almost instinctively, he went to call her back, only to be distracted by JARVIS' voice alerting them to how they were arriving back at the Avengers tower. He moved from his seat and crouched down near Tony's pilot seat to slip his phone into one of the pockets of his duffel bag. There wasn't any time to call her back at the moment. It would have to wait until later.

Once landed safely on the dock, the quinjet's ramp lowered. Clint was taken off first, with Nat by his side along with a team of Helen Cho's assistants and Bruce behind them. His wound took precedence over everyone else, which was more than understandable. Thor ambled off next, the case with the scepter tucked under his arm and hammer in the other hand. As he walked off, Maria Hill walked on, already summarizing what was happening at the Tower. A role he could see Q fitting perfectly in, if she ever decided to come home. Maybe that's why she was calling. He couldn't think about that now, though, not with Maria coming toward him.

"What's the word on Strucker?" he pushed out of his crouch and took his duffel with him. He had been wondering what happened to the man he had left in the back of the van after getting zero answers as to what he did to Q.

"NATO's got him." Maria answered sounding almost disappointed by it. In truth, Steve was too; NATO made him untouchable. The Avengers operated outside the government, meaning while they were able to help anyone anywhere, it made things a bit tricky when it came to what happened  _after_ they caught the bad guys. Usually they were shuffled off to whatever foreign national government there was - or, in this case NATO. Steve wouldn't be getting anymore answers on Q anytime soon. At least not from von Strucker.

"The two enhanced?" he walked over to her, both of them turning to walk off of the quinjet. Maria tapped at her tablet as she did, pulling up their information.

"Wanda and Pietro Maximoff. Twins." she passed off the tablet which was now displaying a video of the pair of siblings she named. The woman looked familiar, the man not so much; that might be because he didn't really get a good look at him…

"Orphaned at ten when a shell collapsed their apartment building." she explained while he let the video of them at some sort of rally play. They were speaking some foreign language that Steve didn't understand, but based on the signs it looked to be about peace and war, "Sokovia's had a...rough history." The phrase she used made it clear that the country had been at war for what probably was forever, "It's nowhere special, but in a way, it's on the way to everywhere special." she compared and contrasted as they walked into the Avengers tower itself.

"And their abilities?" he needed to hear more about the twins rather than the history of Sokovia. If the twins had been experimented on by von Strucker in the same way Q had, then maybe that meant she had some sort of abilities as well. He hoped not, only because he thought she was perfectly strong enough, fast enough, smart enough, and whatnot in her own way.

"He's got increased metabolism and improved thermal homeostasis. Her thing is neuroelectronic interfacing, telekinesis, mental manipulation." she reported with a motion of her hand that was similar to the one Wanda made when the red tendrils of energy slithered out of her fingers.

Stopping in front of the elevators, Steve looked at Maria for a more simplified description. All the things she said sounded like stuff out of the video games Dawson played or the movies he showed Steve. The  _real_ superhero stuff, apparently.

"He's fast and she's weird." Maria plainly put it. That much Steve could understand. He nodded, pulling the corners of his mouth down as he looked back at the tablet to take one last look at the twins' information.

"Well, they're gonna show up again." he commented, handing back the tablet to Maria with one hand and pressing the elevator button with the other.

"Agreed. File says they volunteered for Strucker's experiments." While her voice was level, he could hear the hint of disbelief in her tone, "It's nuts."

"Right," he couldn't help but make a joke, "What kind of monster would let a German scientist experiment on them to protect their country?" he rose his eyebrows at her before pressing the button for the entrance level for the living quarters. She fixed him with an unamused look,

"We're not at  _war_ , Captain." she reminded him of the situation he had been in when he chose to take the serum.

"They are." he pointed out with a defiant lift of his chin. The elevator doors began to slide shut, but Maria quickly snaked her hand out to stop them. His brow twitched in confusion, but she ignored it to hand over her tablet.

"JARVIS scanned and saved every database from the facility. Video footage, files on volunteers..." she trailed off, keeping her eyes locked on Steve's and he tried not to react, "You might want to take a look at this." she said as if she knew something he didn't. He took the tablet from her with a heavy hand, already dreading what he would find.

"Thank you, Maria." he gave her a curt nod as she stepped back from the elevators and let the door close between them.

As the elevator pulled him down to the living quarters' entrance, the tablet in his hands seemed to get heavier. There was an added weight now, knowing what was on there. He didn't dare look down at the screen, as if scared that the image on it would be something related to Q and the trauma she went through - even though it was only a black screen. From the way Maria spoke, it sounded like she had already pulled up the supposed folder he was supposed to see. But he wasn't quite sure he  _wanted_  to. It would just confirm the fact that something truly horrible had happened to Q and he wasn't around to stop it or save her. The only solace he found was that she had to be alive, right? She  _had_  called him after all…

Dropping his duffel by the entranceway and the tablet on the small table against the wall, Steve let himself relax slightly once the door behind him was shut. He was back on his personal, private level with no one there to bother him except his own thoughts. For a short while, Q was the only other person on the floor - greeting him warmly whenever he got back from whatever Avengers mission he had to go on. Ready to order pizza or takeout and help him decompress from his missions by talking or  _not_ talking. So when she first disappeared on him, it was hard to come back from missions. His heart still thought she would be there waiting for him, while his brain was smart enough to know that she wasn't.

Only a few months ago did he finally pack up Q's things that they had moved into the tower when she had decided to live with him. If unpacking the boxes from his New York apartment into his DC apartment was hard, packing up her things was  _much_  harder. His things were from a past long gone that he could never get back, while her things (or the things they shared) were from a past he could've kept as his present if he had just tried a little harder or noticed something a little sooner. Her things ranged from clothes that still smelled like her to small trinket items from random date nights or little gifts he had brought back from missions. Stuff she apparently didn't deem worthy enough to take with her when she left. For a while, a part of him thought it was her way of saying she would be back. She had to come back to get the rest of her things and maybe he would have a chance to convince her to stay. But time went on and he was proven wrong yet again; she never reappeared.

Though her things were out of sight, they were still in rather large boxes which took up a dedicated corner of the living room. He didn't know where else to put them. Not wanting them to go into the tower's storage with all of Tony's old Iron Man things or whatever else was down there. He wasn't sure if she had a storage unit either, but figured she did since she hadn't brought  _everything_ that had been in her DC apartment. He just didn't know where it was. And he couldn't bring himself to get rid of the boxes either, the same - now smaller, part of him still holding onto the smallest amount of hope that she would come back. So he kept her things in the boxes in the corner of the living room, trying not to look at the small tower every time he walked into the room.

The tablet was left on the table while he walked through the apartment, going through his post-mission routine: showering off the blood and dirt of wherever he had been, redressing himself in plainclothes, feeding himself and then settling at the table to journal his post-op thoughts. Since he didn't have Q to talk with after every mission anymore, he had turned to journaling, finding it the best way to organize his thoughts and make it easier on himself if he needed to make a report for whomever requested it.

Doodling the outside architecture of the facility in the corner of the page, his thoughts continued to turn back to Q every time he tried to write about the details of the op. He got the basics down in brief bullet points, but he couldn't bring himself to write about what he had found inside the facility. The parallel to how Red Skull's facility looked when he saved the 107th was there and made his chest tighten when he thought about it. The glass boxes where volunteers were kept (trapped), were like the cages he had found dozens upon dozens of men locked in. The chairs with straps that reminded him so much of the one he had found Bucky tied to. Then there was just the general eeriness that settled in the air that made a shiver go down his spine; something bad had happened there.

As he continued to jot down his thoughts about the mission, the weight of the tablet was starting to settle on his shoulders - even though it was all the way across the room. He could see exactly what happened in the facility, and know every terrible thing that was done. All he could think about was what was on it, letting the pressure of it fill his head with a rhythmic pounding until he finally got up from his chair and moved to grab the tablet from where it rested.

Without a moment's pause, he tapped his finger against the screen to open up the file folder Maria had left pulled up. It was hundreds of video files and documents that spanned over the course of twelve days. Choosing one at random, he walked over to the couch - knowing that he needed to sit down for whatever he was about to see. The cover image of the video was enough to make his heart sink into his stomach. Q was strapped to a chair, not unlike Bucky had been, all beaten and bruised. She looked strung out, and desperate to be let go. And terrified. So fucking terrified. He couldn't remember a time where he had ever seen her look so scared.

The first thing he heard was Q's cries of pain. Ones he had never heard before. The only other times he had seen her in pain was when she twisted her ankle during a sparring session with Nat, which was just a loud gasp, or when she had been injured during the scene on the causeway with Bucky, but that was incoherent mumblings because of the adrenaline. This was full on screams that sent sharp stabbing sensations straight to his heart, her begging for it to stop as some man in a white lab coat proceeded to shove needles into her arms and ignore her pleas.

Not being able to take the sounds of her pain, he muted the tablet as he pulled up another video. This time it was von Strucker delivering the torture with a wire, wrapping around her wrists and causing her enough pain for her to throw her head back against the chair she was strapped to. Her face contorted into an expression Steve had never seen on her before and one he certainly  _never_  wanted to see on her. Jaw clenched so tightly he could've sworn she was trying to snap it, eyes rolling back into her head so all he could see were the whites of her eyes and the way her body arched and twisted like she was trying to do some form of yoga, just without the whole  _centering yourself_ part.

Video after video showed her in situations she never should've been in. Hooked up to a machine that shocked her over and over until she passed out from the pain. Hit with a metal rod of some sort for some reason he had no explanation to. The constant plunging of needles into her arms with vials that were a strangely familiar blue.

Eventually, he had to put the tablet down. He couldn't take it anymore. Seeing what she had gone through was somehow worse than imagining it. The pain in his heart didn't even compare to the pain she had dealt with but it was still there. All he wanted was to find her and bring her home - as far away from the nightmare she had lived in for the past twelve days.

" _Agent Romanoff is here to see you, Captain."_  JARVIS' voice alerted him, startling him out of the daze he had been in while digesting what he had just seen and heard. Taking in a shaky breath, he nodded and quickly wiped his hands under his eyes to get rid of the tears that had started to fall against his own accord.

Opening the door before she could knock, Steve tried to muster a smile but he knew it fell flat by the way her expression shifted. She noticed. And walked right past him onto his floor to try and figure out what was going on.  _Shit_.

"I came here to give you an update on Clint." her voice was casual, but her eyes were sharp, an underlying message that she knew something was up. She had changed out of her stealth suit and into plainclothes as he had. Her red curls were more like waves now, having been fresh from a shower and reminiscent of the ones she had towel dried at Sam's house so long ago. A makeup free face paired well with her casual outfit of yoga pants and an old crew neck sweatshirt that Dawson had left behind, "He's gonna be fine, by the way."

"Good, that's good." he nodded, arms crossing over his chest as he tried to focus on the conversation they were having instead of the tablet that was resting on the couch. One she could see and then pick up to see what he had been watching.

"It  _is_  good." she repeated him, raising her eyebrows up as if she was surprised by his reaction. God, she totally knew something was up, "You done journaling your thoughts and feelings yet?" she asked with a slight teasing tone and a pointed sip of the green juice she was holding. He let out a breath of a laugh, ducking his head down to hide his amusement,

"Almost." he lifted his head up again and let out a sigh, "NATO's got Strucker and Hill has more information on the two enhanced we came in contact with." he continued, shifting into Captain mode seamlessly. Nat kept her eyebrows raised as she took a long sip of her green juice before speaking again,

"Well, thank God for that." she commented dryly, before turning and walking over to the couch. He tried to hide his wince as she gracefully fell onto the couch, putting her feet up and lounging right next to the tablet. Deciding to take it out of the equation fully, he crossed over to where she was sitting and scooped up the tablet to take it to the table where his journal was, only to hear her ask, "What's that?"

"Hill's tablet." he answered as vaguely as possible, "Just extra information on the two enhanced." he tried to make it sound uninteresting but of course Nat saw through his attempt.

"Let me see." she got up from her spot on the couch to meet him at the table, "Could use a little extra insight for the next time we cross paths." Without pause, she exchanged her green juice for the tablet in Steve's hand and settled herself in the chair at the table, already clicking play on the video before he could stop her.

Q's desperate begging for whatever was happening to stop filled the otherwise quiet area. He shut his eyes at the sounds, his chest tightening as it had the first time he had heard it. There were some things that would never get easier. And he couldn't bear to look at the video footage again - seeing his ex-girlfriend go through something he would never wish on his worst enemies.

"Oh my God, Steve." Nat's voice was so quiet, he barely heard her, "Steve, what is this?" she asked, but didn't pull her eyes from the screen, hypnotized as he was by the horrible things that were happening to someone they loved. The woman strapped to the chair looked too familiar for it to be a coincidence, even despite the battered way she appeared. This wasn't her first time under the hands of the man in the white lab coat and based on the length of the video, it certainly wouldn't be her last. The anguished pleas for whoever was with her was enough to make her blood run cold. She knew the voice, but had never heard it sound so...hopeless, "Is this Suit?" her nickname for Q sounded wrong given the circumstances, but still he nodded and her heart sank.

"Yeah," the word came out rough and tight, making him clear his throat before he spoke again, "Yeah, it's her. Strucker had her in one of the rooms at the facility before we got there." he explained, realizing that if they had just found the hideout a little bit earlier...maybe he could've been the one to save her.

"Steve…" the way she said his name was in a way he had never heard from her before. Sympathetic. It sounded wrong, especially with the way she was looking at him now: like a kicked puppy.

He pulled out the chair next to her, suddenly feeling crushed by the weight of what he had seen. His head immediately dropped while his elbows came to rest on his thighs. Without another word, she shifted her position in the chair so that she could reach around and wrap her arms as much as she could around him in an uncharacteristic hug. It was the only thing she could think to do, not knowing what to say for once in her life. Memories threatened to surface of the Red Room and the techniques they used to train her and the other dancers. The screenings of  _Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs_  with subliminal messages woven in to brainwash them, the handcuffs that went around their wrists each night before bed, killing roommates without a moment's pause during a sparring session. Everything they did all led up to their graduation ceremony. Nat couldn't bear to think of Q going through something remotely similar and just as traumatizing.

It was why her grip around Steve tightened almost instinctively, like she was trying to protect him just as much as she was trying to comfort him. They stayed like that for several long, quiet moments until Steve finally took in a shaky breath and picked himself up. She moved away from him as he lifted his head up and sat up properly in the chair.

"Hill gave it to me when we got back." he gestured to the tablet on the table, "Sam had told me she had been stuck in the facility when he told me about who had given him the lead on the scepter." he explained, "But I never thought that…" he trailed off, trying to find the words, "The things they did to her…" his hand curled into a fist at the thought. All he wanted to do was find von Strucker and give him what he deserved, NATO be damned.

"You couldn't have known, Steve." Nat responded, already trying to pull him out of the guilt spiral he was inching closer and closer to, "There hadn't been any sign of her for ages. Either of them." she added almost sadly with a glance down to the sweater she was wearing. Getting lost for a moment in memories of the two of them working endlessly to find the people they loved, she was quiet for a long moment. Then she swallowed hard and looked back at him, "Did Sam tell you she was okay?" she asked, changing the subject but also keeping it on theme.

"He has no idea where she is now though." he continued after nodding his answer to her first question. Nat's face fell a bit, disappointed there were no other clues to go off of.

"As long as she's okay." she pushed past her disappointment and gave him a tight smile, trying to let him know that she was okay, even though a part of her wished for an update on the person she had lost as well.

They sat together in silence for a short while, both lost in their own thoughts about the people who left them. Wondering where they were, what they were doing, if they were okay, and how they could maybe convince them to come home.

"She called me." Steve spoke first. Nat's head flicked up at that, silently wanting more of explanation, "While we were on the quinjet." he continued with a slight nod of his head, "I couldn't bring myself to answer it right away and then when I finally went to…" he raised his hand in the air before letting it drop again, "it disappeared. No voicemail." his voice was heavy with regret. If he had just answered the fucking call…

"Did you call her back?" Nat immediately asked and Steve shook his head,

"No, not yet. I got caught up in-" again, he waved his hand toward the tablet on the table before letting out a sigh, "And I don't even know why she called me in the first place."

"Maybe because of all of this." she offered with a similar gesture to the tablet that housed all the different videos on it, "She's probably hurt in more than just the physical way." she spoke as if she knew something he didn't, remembering her time in the Red Room, "And she probably just wants to talk to you again." she kept the same tone, but it was laced with a slight bitterness to it and he knew it was because she had yet to receive any hints that Dawson was still alive, let alone still with Q. "Call her back." she continued matter of factly, before he could have the chance to ask her about Dawson. Getting up from her seat, it was clear the conversation was over, "Call her back, Steve." she repeated herself, sounding a bit more insistent the second time. She gave him a small smile before picking up her green juice and leaving his floor in favor of her own - no doubt to punch a few things, but he would talk to her about that later; he had a phone call to make.

It took him at least an hour to actually  _make_ the phone call. A lot of pacing back and forth against the carpet of the living room, stopping every once in a while to stare at the tower of boxes or look at the floor where Q had spilled her wine and they couldn't get it out - the red blotches almost pulsing to their own beat. Across to the kitchen where there was a very dark spot above the microwave from where Steve had accidentally put in a metal spoon and made the machine slightly explode, and instead of freaking out, Q burst into loud peals of laughter. Then back to the boxes, which housed so many memories of better days. But boxes could be unpacked, right? All he had to do was call.

He pulled up her contact info and exited out of it about fifty times. It had been so long since he had called her, he wasn't sure what he was going to say - or what  _she_  was going to say. Would she sound different? After being tortured for days on end? Or would she still sound the same?

Finally, he took the leap and connected the call, waiting for the screen to shift into the phone call to bring it to his ear. It didn't even ring. All he got was a robotic female voice greeting him on the other line:

" _We're sorry. The user's mailbox is full. You cannot leave a message at this time. Goodbye."_

* * *


	63. like herself again

Natasha Romanoff tended not to weep over many things. She was Russian after all. Yet, just because she didn't weep, didn't mean she wasn't emotionless. She felt things. Like joy and happiness, loss and sadness, betrayal and anger. Maybe she just didn't outwardly show it the same way others did. She was trained not to after all.

Her training in the Red Room had prepared her for many things - especially how to deal with the sudden loss of someone you loved. A simple how to, really: don't love. People, places, things, even herself, all of that was temporary. All that mattered was successfully completing the mission.

As time went on, she stayed true to her trainings in the Red Room, until she couldn't any longer. Until Barton showed up, until SHIELD, until the Battle of New York...each time a bit more of her training being chipped away. Her skills were still intact, that physical training would never fade, but the messages and common themes of the Red Room and the KGB were being replaced with her own personal mantras instead. Almost like she was becoming a bit more human.

And allowing herself to love again. Platonically at first with people such as Clint and Steve, familial second with the Avengers themselves, then surprisingly, romantically. With someone she never thought would catch her off guard in that way. But he did. He treated her unlike anyone else who had treated her before, uncaring about who she was or what she did. All she was to him was an annoyance, just like everyone else.

At first, the way he acted toward her startled her. She immediately thought he was holding some sort of personal grudge. That she had done something to him or someone he loved without knowing it - she did a lot of shady things when she was in the KGB after all. Then she realized that, no, that's just how he acted with everyone. It was funny; most people feared her or kept their distance or hesitated when telling her she was doing something wrong. Not him. He couldn't care less about the supposed happenings if he were to talk back to her or get in her space. A welcome change.

Romantic love had never been on her mind when it came to him. Mostly because she was certain that, based on how he interacted with even his closest friend, he was incapable of the emotion just as she was. Though both found out that was a lie - maybe just a little too late.

" _Where are you going?" Natasha asked, keeping her voice level, but still curious. He shrugged, his back to her, refusing to let her see his face. A smart move, but also a stupid giveaway that he was hiding something._

" _Just on a trip." he responded casually, vaguely, "Need to get away from the city for a bit. Away from all these superheroes." he gestured around the room as if the superheroes he was referring to were standing with them in the bedroom, not scattered around the Tower._

" _Let me come with you." she offered, "God knows I need to get out of here too." It was true. Even despite being with the Avengers now, she had burned up all her previous identities with the SHIELD leak. There was no running away anymore, relying on old names and lives. But maybe she could. Maybe she could make a new life. Maybe with him._

" _No, no, you…" he trailed off, turning - finally, to go to the dresser to swipe off a few things: wallet, phone, keys, a USB port, "You have the Avengers stuff, remember?" he quickly glanced to her. She shrugged, tossing her hair over her shoulder,_

" _They don't need me as much as they need some of the others." she kept her voice light, but she thought it to be true. She didn't have super strength or could summon the power of lightening or even turn green when she got angry. She was just a spy for God's sake._

" _You know that's not true." he fixed her with a serious look before shaking his head, "Listen, Nat, it's fine. You don't have to come with me or -"_

" _But I want to." she cut in, stepping more into his bedroom. He froze, only motion coming from where his fingers were sliding against the USB port, opening and closing the device._

" _I gotta go." he finally settled on, turning away from her once again to throw the rest of the items in his duffel before zipping it up._

" _You still haven't told me where." she pointed out and he let out a sigh,_

" _It doesn't matter. You don't need to know." he picked up the bag and swung it onto his shoulder. Suddenly it felt a lot more serious than him just going on a weekend getaway._

" _Dawson, where are you going?" she asked him again, voice hardening. He turned, hands settling on his hips as he faced her,_

" _Away." he raised his eyebrows, rolling forward on his toes a bit, "I don't understand why that's so hard for you to understand."_

" _Because it's completely out of the blue." she wanted to yell, so badly, but kept her voice even, knowing how he would react if she started to yell. She knew he was holding something from her and with enough annoyance, it would come out. It had to._

_Instead of answering, he just scoffed and shook his head, walking past her and out of the bedroom. She could've stopped him with a hand on his arm, but chose to let him by._

" _I'm allowed to keep secrets from you, Nat." he said as he crossed through the floor, "God knows you've kept enough from me." the last part of his sentence was mumbled, but she still heard it._

" _My secrets are secrets to protect you." she defended herself while following him through the floor._

" _And you think mine aren't?" he asked with a raise of his eyebrow. She made a face, eyebrows raising and eyes widening slightly._

" _I don't see how the secret of you illegally downloading porn could hurt me the same way my KGB past could." she compared the two sarcastically. His gaze hardened and he let out a slight scoff._

" _Fuck you, Nat." he spat out, shifting the position of his duffel on his shoulder, "I'm late." he was angry now, and hurt. Good. Maybe he could understand why she was too._

" _So that's it?" she got him to heave an annoyed sigh, "You're just gonna leave without giving me any more information?"_

" _Uh, yeah, pretty much." he laughed a little, but no part of this conversation was funny._

" _I'll find you, you know." she didn't mean for it to come out as a threat, but it did. And he surely took it as one; his features set and his jaw clenched, the grip on his duffel becoming tighter._

" _I'd like to see you try." he spoke lowly, in a tone that reminded her that he could be dangerous if he so chose to be. Maybe not with fists and guns, but with knowledge and the ability to ruin lives with a simple click of his mouse._

_They stood there, in a tense silence, for a few moments more until he grabbed his jacket from the couch. He walked away from her, not saying another word, and headed straight for the door. Suddenly, she realized this could very well be the last time she saw him and a huge part of her didn't want that to happen._

" _What about us?" she cringed inwardly as soon as the question fell out of her mouth. Never had she asked such a stupidly vapid question before or even felt the need to. She wasn't one to be begging for people to stay, rather wanting them gone if they wanted to be gone. But something inside of her wanted to get him to stay for as long as he possibly could. Damn him and his ability to make her experience things she never felt before._

" _Was there ever really an us, Natasha?" he asked, getting the final word before slamming the door shut behind him._

_It took a second, but then there was a slight wetness on her face. And she realized she had been crying._

Oh, how she longed for the days where emotions were just another distraction. A distraction that could be easily beaten or filtered out of her as they did in the Red Room. Or just another tool to use to her advantage in order to get the information from her mark without lifting a single finger. Not something that consumed her for months, forcing her to live with them and learn how to deal with them as a normal person did. It made her feel weak. She understood why the Mistresses were so insistent on using emotions as a leveraging tool in others, but not to become subjected to them themselves. Someone could be easily taken advantage of when feeling like they had all the cards in their hand, or a bit too angry to think straight, or even upset over a loss.

Though, like most difficult things she was faced with in her life, Natasha figured her way through it. Learned how to let herself feel so she could assess her weak points and learn how to properly handle them so no one would know or be able to catch her off guard. Thankfully, she was able to do with someone she trusted, who was going through a similar thing.

" _You seem to be handling this a lot better than me." Steve sighed out before taking a sip of his beer. It had been a few days since the pair had left with no regard to the others. Steve had showed up at Natasha's door, looking like he hadn't slept in days - and frankly neither had she. He explained what happened, what he had been doing and how he had tried everything: calling, texting, having JARVIS look for her, but nothing was working. And did she know of anything? Why wasn't Dawson worried either? Also where was Dawson?_

_Before realizing their significant (now apparently ex) others left with each other, both believed they had been deserted for some unknown reason. Left alone to deal with their demons without the people who had helped them quiet them a bit more._

_Discovering that both of them left at the same time brought little comfort, seeing as they both lost someone they loved. But the reason of their leaving was still unknown. Natasha didn't know if she should take solace in knowing that Dawson was with someone he trusted or be angry at Suit for convincing him to leave with her._

" _Trust me, this is a lot harder than I thought it would be." she responded while picking at the label of her beer bottle. Something to focus on so she wouldn't have to look at Steve's sad puppy dog expression._

" _At least you got a goodbye. All I got was a fucking letter." he scoffed, trying to seem angry when Natasha knew he was just sad. Hell, she was too, but chose to be calm and collected rather than angry and explosive._

_As he spoke, he gestured to where he had thrown the pages of Suit's carefully written goodbye letter onto the coffee table. Natasha had read it, seeing how much Suit obviously loved him and was upset to be leaving, but still had to. Dawson just seemed ready to go, without any concern of what would be left of the two of them._

" _It wasn't much of a goodbye." she shook her head, remembering their last conversation. How desperate she was to make him stay. God, it was pathetic._

" _Well, then, at least you got to see him one last time." he tried to put a positive spin on it. Ever the optimist. Yet, somehow also being a self-pessimist; pointing out that she had gotten to see and talk to Dawson one last time while he was left coming home to an empty bedroom and no sign of Suit._

_Like she was the lucky one in this situation. If there could be considered such a thing._

Time passed, different things became more important, and she started focusing on the present, rather than the past. There were good days and bad days, which was how life would always be. She started to feel like herself again, but also not. Not the girl she was in the Red Room, certainly not the woman of the KGB, but someone else. Someone she was supposed to be - wanted to be.

There were small reminders of the one she loved here and there, reminding her that she had been able to have it once and maybe would again some other day. And maybe again with him. Though she didn't have quite as tight a hold on that hope as she did others; it was clear he wasn't coming back so why waste her time?

But when Steve showed her the footage of Suit strapped to the chair in the Hydra facility, the emotions were met with something else that was new for her - sympathy. She wasn't a sympathetic person. Again, she was Russian. Yet there she was, sympathetic for Steve for having to deal with knowing exactly what Suit had been going through since she disappeared. And then also, surprisingly, feeling sympathetic for Suit as well. She knew exactly what it was like to be strapped down into one of those chairs and have both your body and mind be bent and twisted to what those wanted it to be.

At least he knew she was alive. Most didn't get that. Left to wonder what happened to their loved ones who just mysteriously disappeared and were never heard from again. Natasha briefly thought about if there was anyone who thought about her when she was adopted into the Red Room. Anyone who looked for her. Probably not.

Suit was one of the lucky ones too. Most didn't even survive being held in Hydra's grasp. Natasha always knew she was a strong one. Could tell from the moment they met - despite how she looked like nothing more but another bland SHIELD analyst. She could tell Suit had been through some shit, needed to get out of a few choice situations that could've ended badly for her if not. How much Hydra's torture had broken her down? Reduced her to nothing and then built her back in their image? How successful were they in doing whatever they intended to her?

Both Steve and Natasha had kept to themselves since getting back from Sokovia. Dealing with what they had found beside the scepter itself. Steve was probably filling journal pages with entries upon entries of all the things he was feeling, while Natasha chose a different way to work through her emotions. Those toward the men who strapped Suit into that chair, the ones attached to Steve's heartbreak, and of course, the ones still hanging on to hers.

And she found there were a few new emotions she was feeling toward Dawson. First and foremost, anger; whatever little adventure he tagged along with Suit had ended with her being tortured and hurt while he was nowhere to be found. If she was his best friend, he never should've allowed it to happen. But then came the worry. He was nowhere to be found in the footage or any of the files she had downloaded from JARVIS' main copy, nor did Steve mention anything about him either. Suit and he could've gone their separate ways without Natasha knowing a goddamn thing. If that were true, then he should've come back - fight and argument be damned. So why didn't he?

Spotting as she continued her chaînés turns diagonally across the floor, she made sure her posture was tight and her arms were level. Mistress' voice echoed in her head as she crossed the floor:  _remember your plum line!_  Her pointe shoes made little noise for how heavy the toe was, a testament to her control and grace.

The room she was working in was the most basic dance studio she had ever been in. Far be it from the massive, grand room that she trained in with the other girls. And she was completely alone. JARVIS was tasked with making sure no one disturbed her for the length of time she was there. So it was just her and the soft classical music playing from the speakers to keep her on beat. A chance for her to work on both her form, and deal with the mess inside her head.

While she did enjoy punching things and going down to the shooting range to exert some frustrations, she found that turning to pointe had something a little more calming to it. Despite how it was used as a cornerstone to all of her training in the Red Room. Stretching out her limbs on the floor helped her settle her mind, as most found with yoga or meditation. Working at the barre through the warmups that had been drilled into her head more than any language or basic history fact: small prances, delicate pliés through the her positions, then repeating with relevés, arabesques and the arm motions that went with it, before advancing on to the more difficult parts of the barre exercises - tendus in fifth and fourth position, echappés, pas de cheval to sous sous, fondu, and echappés facing the barre. Turning to the center and letting her body decide what it wanted to do next was a nice sense of freedom she didn't have in classes with her Mistress. She didn't need to focus on her battements being swift and direct as if there was someone standing in front of her. Her jetés were more relaxed, not so much focusing on the ballon portion of it, but just the general feeling of being suspended in the air for a few moments.

Being in the dance studio without her Mistress or any of the other girls watching, critiquing and looking for any sign of weakness, allowed her to be Natasha Romanoff. Not any of the other names or personas she had gone by over the years. The one that made her feel closest to being a real person. Not a Black Widow or a KGB associate or even a SHIELD agent. Just Natasha.

When she was thoroughly coated in a slick cover of sweat, she decided to call it a day. She had been in the studio for hours. A good ache reverberated from her toes to the back of her neck. Something she relished in and couldn't wait to relieve with a cold shower. That and a nice meal were two of the most important things on her to-do list.

Though before she did any of that, another thing slid into the first place spot and took over her short to-do list. She made a pit stop on her way to the elevators to check in on Clint. Dr. Cho had used her advanced findings on human tissue to patch up and heal Clint's injury that he unluckily got during the take down of the Hydra facility. While the process took all of eight hours, he was still kept under observation since they had gotten back to the Tower. Just to make sure none of the cells mutated and attacked his central system.

"Where are you going?" she asked in greeting when she stepped into his room. Clint turned to glance over her shoulder at her while shrugging into his jacket.

"I've been released." he shifted in the jacket so it fell a bit more comfortably, "Freedom. Just in time for the party." Right, the party. The one scheduled for later that evening to celebrate their success in retrieving the scepter since losing it in 2012.

"Guess we have more than one thing to celebrate." she gave him a wry grin before turning away. His reminder was the nudge she needed so she would hurry up and get through the other two things she wanted to do and still have enough time to make it to Tony's party without being chastised for being late.

Not that it mattered in the end. No one even glanced her way when she walked in. The common area was already filled with people milling around with the rest of the Avengers. Music was playing, drinks were flowing, and everyone was having a fantastic time - just like any other party Tony Stark threw.

Surprisingly, Rhodey was the first one to greet her and get her a drink. Since the last time she saw him, he had officially become War Machine, taking part in several missions for the United States Armed Forces. But instead of discussing his missions, the two ended up laughing about the last time both of them had been at a party thrown by Tony Stark. A birthday party that ended with a literal bang.

Hopefully, this one wouldn't be as dramatic as the last one.


	64. cheers to that

While Natasha walked down memory lane with Rhodey, Steve found himself trying to gracefully lose to Sam at pool. It didn't matter how much his super soldier-ness helped with calculating and exerting the right amount of force needed to sink the ball into the pocket. Surprisingly, he was evenly matched with Sam. Just as he was with Q - which was even more surprising when he figured that out. But while she based all of her pool expertise on the math behind the game in order to sink the most balls at once, Sam was more focused on sinking one after the other so that the time between his and Steve's shots was great enough to rearrange all of Steve's previously planned shots.

"Alright, alright." he placed his hand on his hip and stepped back from the table as Sam not only sunk his striped ball into the pocket, but also knocked a few of Steve's out of the way and into positions that would be impossible to get out of.

"Come back, come back." Sam beckoned the cue ball to bounce off the wall of the table so he could line it up properly for another shot. Steve groaned in realization that not only did Sam get a chance to make a shot, he also only had a few balls left before he won the game.

Usually, he wouldn't care - hell he didn't  _really_ care that much, about losing to Sam. But there were a few World War Two veterans watching the game and he didn't need to let his fellow men down. That would be embarrassing and no doubt the story of the night.

Sam was a bigger sore winner than Steve ever thought. His proud grin was wide as he did a slight victory dance after successfully beating Steve in the game. They passed off their sticks to the next pair of people in order for Steve to get Sam the drink he was owed.

While waiting for his scotch, Sam asked him how the battle at the Hydra facility turned out, reminding Steve that they hadn't seen each other in person in a long time - only talking on the phone every once in a while. He was glad his friend could make it to the party. It had been a long time since he had seen a friendly face and someone who was outside of his Avengers team. Made him feel like he didn't have to put on a total Captain America front. He could just be himself.

"Sounds like a hell of a fight." Sam commented after Steve finished his highlight reel. They walked away from the bar, heading for one of the staircases on the floor that led to look out across the party, "Sorry I missed it."

"If I had known it was gonna be a firefight, I absolutely would have called." he assured him, slightly referencing to their last phone conversation where he was certain there wouldn't be any fights to be a part of. Oh how wrong he was.

"No, no. I'm not actually sorry." Sam quickly backtracked as the two split momentarily to let a blond woman pass, "I'm just trying to sound tough." he grinned slightly and motioned with his free hand, "I'm very happy chasing cold leads on our missing persons case." he teased a bit, reminding Steve that he had his own mission, one that was probably the most important mission of them all, "Avenging is your world." he amended as they got to a free spot on the raised platform from the stairs, looking down at the rather full party that was happening below, "Your world is crazy." he sighed out before taking a sip of his scotch.

"Be it ever so humble." Steve commented, leaving off the second part of the saying,  _there's no place like home._ The home part wasn't what he was focusing on when referring to the Avengers. Being a part of the team again  _was_  humbling him a bit; knowing that this team was why he had gotten back into the real world in the first place. And some odd years later, being with them again reminded him of how far he had come since their first interactions and how much things - himself included, had changed.

"You find a place in Brooklyn yet?" Sam asked after a moment of surveying the party. Steve took in a deep breath and then shook his head,

"I don't think I'm ever going back to Brooklyn." he responded heavily.

"What? Can't afford it?" he teased slightly, and Steve let out a small chuckle. It wasn't that he couldn't afford to live in Brooklyn. Money-wise, he could. He had plenty of war bonds and SHIELD money stored up in bank accounts, not to mention the small amount of savings he had put into the bank before the war that had accumulated over time. He just couldn't bear to without Q. They had once talked about moving out of the Tower, getting a place together, and calling it home. She had even started looking at apartments for them together. Then it all fell apart.

"Something like that." he answered vaguely, but it was enough for Sam to understand it was much deeper than the blanket statement.

"Well, home is home, you know?" Sam reminded him before taking another sip of his scotch. He stared at Sam's profile for a long moment, thinking about how his definition of home had changed over the years.

It wasn't just a specific place anymore. Not a point on a map or an apartment building in the city. For a short while, Q was his home; wherever she was, whenever they were together - that was home for him. But then he lost her, lost his home. And now he was working to find it all over again.

The two of them mingled for a bit longer, using the party as a chance to catch up and talk like friends. He didn't ruin the mood by talking about Q or the footage he found, but did update Sam on the rest of his life. How he had taken Sam's advice and gone to actual therapy alongside the weekly Veterans Association meetings. Surprisingly, he liked therapy, finding it nice to talk to a third party who had no personal claim in his life other than to be there to talk through his problems. It reminded him of what he did with Q, except without all the heartbreak attached to it. The VA meetings were where he got his relatability fix and took solace in the fact that others were going through similar, base level things.

Sam told him stories about his travels through random Eastern European countries - always staying away from the several dead ends he found or the day he found Q. Keeping the mood light and easy; it was a party after all.

And it being so, a bit later in the night after Sam had left, Steve found himself entertaining a group of World War Two veterans alongside Thor. They reenacted their battle tricks they had come up with over the months and took suggestions from the others on how to really get the most out of their assigned weapons. It was fun and reminded him of a time he used to do a similar thing with the Howling Commandos - hell some of the men sitting around  _knew_ the Howling Commandos. Stories came up and memories were swapped, though they were no longer tinged with the same amount of guilt and sadness Steve once had attached to them before Q came along to help him.

"I gotta have some of that." one interupted when seeing Thor tip over the intricately designed silver flask into the glass he was holding. A clear liquid poured out of it, mixing with whatever was already in the glass.

"Oh, no no no," Thor deterred the man with a shake of his head, "See this...This was aged for a thousand years" he passed the glass over to Steve, who took it curiously, "in the barrels built from the wreck of Grunhel's fleet." he swirled the glass a bit so the liquor mixed together before bringing it up to take a sniff. It smelled like honey and bourbon, "It is not meant for mortal men." Steve's brows immediately furrowed as he looked over at Thor, unsure why he decided to give him some if it wasn't made for mortals. He was mortal...right? Not that it mattered, though, because he couldn't get drunk. The serum made sure of that. And he tried. Countless times: when Bucky died, when he woke up in 2012, when he found Bucky again, when Q left...nothing seemed to work. He was pretty sure Thor's Asgardian liquor wouldn't have any affect on him either.

"Neither was Omaha Beach, blondie." another one of the veterans sassed, clearly unamused with Thor trying to tell them they couldn't handle it, "Stop trying to scare us. Come on." he lifted his glass up with a sure hand. Thor glanced over to Steve, who did nothing but shrug; who was he to deny the man some Asgardian liquor? After all he had done, he deserved to try it.

Thor gave in and shook out a few droplets of the liquor into his glass, then the rest of the men's glasses as well. They all rose their glasses for a moment in cheers before taking a sip. It went down smooth, smoother than any alcohol Steve had ever had before. Sweet as it smelled, there was a bit of a kick to it that immediately made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. A second sip sent a thrum through his entire body and he suddenly felt light. No other alcohol had ever affected him like this before; it was like drinking a soda. But the Asgardian liquor...had somehow, surprisingly, managed to get him a little bit buzzed within three sips of it. A fucking miracle.

Needing a drink herself, Natasha was behind the bar, pouring herself a Cosmopolitan when Bruce stepped up with a small, warm smile. He settled at the bar while she grabbed another martini glass to pour out the rest of her drink for him.

"How'd a nice girl like you wind up working in a dump like this?" he opened teasingly as he took off his glasses. She gave him a wry smile, setting the other martini glass in front of him,

"Fella done me wrong." she kept her voice airy, much like how she thought a woman from the 1920s talked - she'd have to ask Steve if she was historically accurate though.

"You got lousy taste in men, kid." he played along, folding his arms atop the bar while she poured out the rest of the Cosmopolitan into the glass for him.

"Don't I know it." she sighed before backtracking, "He's not so bad." she defended Dawson as she reached for a garnish to finish off Bruce's drink before sliding it over to him, "He pretends not to like people or care about them, but deep down, he's all fluff." she lifted her glass while Bruce took a sip out of his drink, remembering the times she had caught him in a caring moment, "Fact is, he's not like anybody I've ever known." she realized with a blink of her eyes. The corners of her lips twitched in a smile, a dead giveaway to her emotions which she tried to hide by ducking her head down. She paused, thinking about how Dawson compared to the rest of her friends. He certainly wasn't a fighter, not in the traditional sense at least, and definitely not a hero but how could she explain to Bruce how great he was without sounding like she was putting him down?

"Sounds amazing." Bruce filled in the silence with a quick smile, saving her from having to make the decision.

"He's also a huge dork." Natasha added immediately from behind her glass, then made a face and shrugged as Bruce laughed, "Chicks dig that." she should know; she did. Bruce gave her a slight smile as she took a long sip from her drink before continuing, "So what do you think? Should I fight this, or run with it?"

"Run with it, right?" Bruce stuttered out, suddenly, not really understanding what was going on, "Or did he... Was he...What did he do that was so wrong to you?" he asked. She took in a breath before answering. The list wasn't that long if she was being honest, but the items on it were big.

"Made me feel things I never thought I was capable of." she admitted. He raised his eyebrows and leaned forward a bit to pick up his glass.

"I don't think that's such a bad thing, Nat." he gave her a reassuring smile before lifting his drink up and turning to return to the party.

"He's right, you know." Steve's voice got her to turn away from where Bruce was rejoining Dr. Cho on the couch, "About it not being such a bad thing to feel something." he repeated himself as he reached for a beer from the ice bucket.

"What? You're suddenly an expert now?" she asked with a raise of her eyebrows. He made a face, twisting off the cap of his beer- even though it wasn't a twist off cap.

"Maybe." he shrugged, "I  _am_  Captain America after all…" he trailed off with a smirk. She let out a scoff and shook her head before letting her gaze return to him. Taking a second look at her friend, she noticed the easy way he was holding himself and the sly grin on his face.

"Holy shit, are you buzzed right now?" she couldn't believe she was asking him that question, but he seemed quite tipsy for a man who couldn't get drunk. He closed one eye and raised his hand up, pinching his fingers together a bit to explain his state of tipsiness.

"Just a little." he laughed for the first time in a long time. Impressed, she pulled the corners of her mouth down and nodded a bit.

"And how, pray tell, did that happen?" she asked with a sip of her Cosmo to hide the smirk tugging at her lips. A wide, but almost bashful grin spread out across his face, like he was embarrassed to be caught a little tipsy.

"Thor had some magic whatever-" he waved his hand in the air as he tried to explain what it was that Thor had given him, "Something about barrels and aging...all I know is that the world's a bit tilted." he motioned with his hands, showing her what he meant. Oh, this just kept getting better and better.

"Tipsy is an interesting look for you, Rogers." she teased, but he just continued to grin and took a long gulp of his beer. God how she wished Suit was here to witness this. She'd have a field day. Or even Dawson - he'd never let Steve live it down.

"I can't even remember the last time I was drunk." he sighed, looking out across the rest of the party, "'35?" he guessed while closing one eye again as if that would help him remember. He paused for a moment then shook his head, like it was too hard to remember over seventy years ago, "All I know is that I feel a lot better than I have in a long time. Lighter." he smiled at her and motioned to himself. She returned the smile and lifted up her drink at him,

"Cheers to that then." she leaned over the bar to clink her glass against his beer bottle and he let out a little chuckle before taking a sip.

As the night grew later, more and more people started to take their leave. Then it was just a small group of them. Dr. Cho had fallen asleep on one of the lounge chairs while the Avengers ended up sitting around one of the tables. There were various boxes of takeout scattered around the glass table, mingling with empty beer bottles and glasses. Thor and Steve were sitting on one couch together, sharing from the flask of Asgardian liquor. Across from them, Clint and Maria had taken spots on the floor instead of sitting on the empty couch behind them. Though Bruce settled himself on the end of the couch so he could talk quietly to Natasha who was lounging on a loveseat with a beer instead of her previous Cosmopolitan. Rhodey and Tony had taken another smaller couch next to Steve and Thor, both listening to Clint complain about how anyone could lift Thor's hammer and playing cards with Maria.

"Please, be my guest." Thor gestured to the hammer which was resting on the table. An invitation for Clint to try and lift the hammer he was going on about. Suddenly stopping the twirling of his drumsticks, Clint paused and looked at the god of thunder with raised eyebrows. Again, Thor gestured as if answering the unasked question Clint had. Not needing to be told again, Clint got to his feet and stepped over to where the hammer was sitting, handle up.

"This is gonna be beautiful." Rhodey muttered, attention drawn away from the card game to watch Clint spectacularly fail.

"Clint, you've had a tough week. We won't hold it against you if you can't get it up." Tony teased, equally curious to see how it played out. No one noticed Steve's small snort of amusement at the innuendo except for Natasha, who gave him a wondrous look before her eyes flicked to where her best friend was currently wrapping his hand around the handle of the hammer.

There was a loud grunt as Clint tried to lift the hammer from it's spot. Steve could see his muscles flex and knew he was using all of his strength to get the hammer to move, but it wouldn't even budge. Letting out a laugh, Clint relaxed and shook his head,

"I still don't know how you do it!"

"Smell the silent judgment?" Tony asked with a motion around the room. Clint gestured to him immediately, already challenging him to try to lift the hammer.

From there, it was like all were trying to pull Excalibur from the stone. To become the ruler of Asgard and posses the power of Thor. Tony tried: once on his own, again with the blasters from the glove of his suit helping him, and again with Rhodey and both of the gloves from the Iron Man and War Machine suits. The hammer didn't move an inch. Bruce, ever dramatic, got up on the table to try and lift it with a loud scream of exertion. Only to gain slight amusement from his fellow Avengers, but not the powers of Thor.

Then it was Steve's turn. The slight buzz of the Asgardian liquor had been giving him throughout the night made him a lot more confident in himself than he would've been had he been completely sober. Rolling his sleeves up as he stepped up to the hammer, he wrapped both hands around the handle and positioned himself to lift with his knees, not his back. He gritted his teeth together and focused all of his super-human strength to lifting the hammer, ignoring the encouragement from the peanut gallery.

And the hammer shifted.

Just slightly, but enough to get Thor's attention. The slight creak it made when it did move was deafening. It was almost like the entire room was holding its breath while Steve readjusted his position to try and fully lift it. Though this time, it didn't move at all.

With a disappointed sigh, he let go of the handle and lifted his hands up in defeat. He'd take solace in the fact that he at least moved it  _slightly_ which had to count for something right? Thor looked obviously relieved that Steve hadn't been able to fully lift the hammer and let out a light chuckle.

The only one who had yet to try to lift the hammer was Natasha. But when offered, she immediately declined, citing that she didn't need an answer to that question. Briefly, both Steve and Natasha wondered if their significant exes would have been able to lift it - or even would have tried in the first place.

"All deference to the Man Who Wouldn't Be King, but it's rigged." Tony summed up, feeling a bit burned by not being able to lift the hammer. Clint walked past him to grab another beer, agreeing with him,

"You bet your ass." he slapped Tony's shoulder with one hand, the other reaching for a beer.

"Steve, he said a bad language word." Maria didn't miss a second to poke fun at Steve, motioning with her beer bottle, "He owes a dollar to the jar, right?" she asked with an amused grin. Steve shook his head, glancing to Tony,

"Did you tell everyone about that?" he groaned, slightly embarrassed about everyone knowing about his slip-up but also a little perturbed that his inside joke with Q was now being made public. But Tony didn't even acknowledge him, continuing to try and figure out why no one could lift Thor's hammer except Thor himself.

"It's a very, very interesting theory." Thor got up from his spot on the couch after Tony had finished theorizing, "I have a simpler one." he reached for the hammer and lifted it with ease, even flipping it to show off a bit, "You're all not worthy." he said matter of factly, causing everyone to start laughing and semi-complaining groans.

The lightheartedness of the night was interrupted by a loud ringing noise. Steve clenched his fist and turned his head to the side to try and deal with the terrible sound, only for it to stop a second later. As everyone tried to figure out what the noise was and where it came from, a slow screeching took over - like some was dragging something metal across the floor.

All turning to look, they were greeted by some sort of disassembled robotic figure. Like one of Tony's suits that had yet to be completed or even one that was completed but destroyed. The head was tilted on its side, there were wires spewing out from the body itself and it limped and gestured awkwardly. But it spoke to them, in a deep voice that sounded nothing like JARVIS or any of the other AIs Tony had.

" _How could you be worthy?_ " it asked, referencing back to Thor's comment regarding their inability to lift his hammer, " _You're all killers."_  it gestured to the entire group.

"Stark." Steve immediately sobered up at the sight of a potential threat. He kept his eyes trained on the robot skeleton, but tried to force Tony to take action rather quickly; who knew who was controlling that thing.

"JARVIS." he called out in response, but JARVIS was quiet.

" _I'm sorry, I was asleep."_  the robot continued to talk, " _Or I was a - dream."_  it didn't sound sure of itself.

"Reboot Legionnaire OS. We got a buggy suit." Tony actively tried to get JARVIS to shut down whatever was happening, but the robot continued over him.

" _There was this terrible noise. And I was tangled in...in...strings."_  it lifted its arms to show the wires dangling off of itself, stumbling around like a drunk toddler. " _I had to kill the other guy."_  it suddenly admitted, " _He was a good guy."_

"You killed someone?" Steve asked, getting the robot's attention.

" _Wouldn't have been my first call."_  there was a lilt to its voice that made it sound like he had emotions rather than just being a monotone AI system, " _But, down in the real world, we're faced with ugly choices._ " the tone was almost knowing, as if the rest of the Avengers should know exactly what he was talking about.

"Who sent you?" Thor spoke up. There was a whirring sound from the robot before Tony's voice came out of it.

" _I see a suit of armor around the world."_

"Ultron." Bruce breathed out, both amazed and fearing what he and Tony had created. He looked over to his friend to see that Tony's face had paled slightly.

" _In the flesh."_ the head lifted before back tracking, " _Or, no, not yet. Not this chrysalis. But I'm ready. I'm on mission."_ the tone in the room shifted with that statement. Thor's grip on his hammer tightened while Maria had carefully pulled her gun out from where she had stashed it under her dress.

"What mission?" someone asked, Steve wasn't sure, but the robot answered immediately as if expecting it,

" _Peace in our time."_

And then the room exploded. Three Iron Legion robots came busting out through the walls, head straight for the group. Steve was fast enough to kick the table up in front of him and whoever was near him to use as a shield. The robots hurtled themselves into it and Steve went flying back down the small flight of stairs while the others scattered elsewhere.

Gunshots and blasts echoed throughout the room, chiming in with the shattering of glass and the low thumps of people being tossed into things. To avoid being shot, Natasha quickly jumped over the bar while Bruce scrambled behind her. She grabbed him by the jacket and pulled him down with her, only to have him land with his face directly in her chest.

"Sorry." he immediately apologized, moving off of her, but staying low to avoid fire.

"Don't turn green." she advised and he nodded,

"I won't." he agreed. She gave him a quick smile before reaching under the bar for the handgun that was hidden. Keeping her position low, she shot at the Iron Legion robot that had been firing blasts at the bar area. She wasn't sure if bullets would do anything, but at least she was doing something.

Getting up from where he had fallen, Steve took a running leap and jumped onto the back of the Iron Legion robot that was firing off shots at where Natasha and Bruce were hidden. With one hand on its chest, he used his other hand to punch the head of the robot repeatedly - all while trying to stay on the robot as it flailed about wildly like a bucking bull.

In an effort to get Steve off itself, it used its rocket blasters to send itself flying backwards into the tiled wall above the bar. The tile exploded around them and Steve groaned in pain, feeling some of the shards lodge themselves into his backside, but still managed to hold on. Until the robot twisted around to grab him and toss him to the ground like he weighed nothing at all. Steve hit the bar top, then rolled off to bounce off the stools before finally landing on the ground with a thump.

Taking advantage of the scene above them, Natasha quickly got to her feet and instructed Bruce to follow her. As they hurried up the staircase, she blindly shot in the direction of the the Iron Legion robot that had gotten rid of Steve, narrowly avoiding the blasts of energy that were being returned.

Steve recovered from being thrown off the robot just in time to see the upper half of one hovering near a defenseless Dr. Cho. Before it could reboot its blaster, Steve grabbed it by the shoulders and tossed it back, calling out to Thor so he could finish the job with his hammer.

"Cap!" he heard Clint shout and glanced over to see him hurl his shield toward him like a frisbee. Jumping up to meet the throw, Steve easily caught it and then used the force behind the throw to spin himself around and then relaunch the shield at the last remaining Iron Legion robot, effectively slicing it in half.

" _That was dramatic."_  the familiar voice of the main robot broke the tense silence that had come over the room after all of the other robots had fallen. " _I'm sorry, I know you mean well. You just didn't think it through."_  it started to monologue while walking around in a small circle, " _You want to protect the world but you don't want it to change. How is humanity saved if it's not allowed to... evolve?"_  it picked up one of the dismembered Iron Legion robots, " _With these? These_ _puppets_ _."_  it sounded disgusted by the metal and crushed the head of the body in its fist, " _There's only one path to peace. The Avengers' extinction._ " it growled out. But before it got the chance to do anything about it, Thor launched his hammer at it. The robot crashed into the wall and burst into pieces as the hammer returned to Thor's hand.

For a moment, all was quiet. Until a slow, almost creepy song began to drift from the robot's flickering head. A familiar one to all of them - but especially Steve, who didn't usually get  _every_  reference right then and there. It was the song from Pinocchio. The one the puppet sang when he became a real boy:

_I had strings, but now I'm free. There are no strings on me...There are no strings on me._

* * *

A/N: A chapter chock full of some AoU action! I hope you liked it! I don't  _love_  writing action scenes so hopefully this was okay! Please let me know any of your thoughts, comments or concerns! And thank you all who have reviewed previously and those who favorite and follow. I love you!


	65. ECHOnet

There weren't a lot of things he was proud of in his life. His personality needed work. The cons he had pulled could always be improved. Projects weren't always successful (hello, Project Insight?). And his relationships? Get the fuck out of here.

But if there was one thing he would always be proud of and hold close to his heart, it would be the program he created that allowed him to access different databases without anyone noticing. Secretly, he called it ECHOnet - or the Entry to Computers without Help and by Oneself network. Openly, he just referred to his "program." Most people didn't question it, certainly not Q - she had a hard time with technology as it was.

Not only did ECHOnet have access to whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, it also held an impressive amount of data and was constantly running different searches throughout various open networks in an effort to find keywords that fit the plug-in. And thankfully, it was coded specifically so that if anyone somehow found their way into it or noticed what it was doing, the program would bounce the person across the world. No one would find the central base, which came in handy over the past year while they were on their little adventure.

Except for when there was a sudden  _ping_ that came from one of the several monitors that were set up in the living room area. Dawson turned out from where he was rifling through the fridge to look over his shoulder at the terminal. It wasn't a normal sounding  _ping_. Not the one that usually came whenever the program picked up some news about dead ex-Hydra agents, or the other that sounded when it picked up a pattern between the journal and the Hydra black box. No this was  _completely_ different.

Meandering over to the terminal, he held his energy drink in one hand while his other quickly tapped against a few keys to try and find the source of the  _ping_. He pulled up a side program to run to see if there had been any sort of outside access. A moment later, the screen flashed with a confirmation code and a series of numbers that screamed virus. Someone had managed to wriggle their way into ECHOnet and seemed to release some sort of bug.

"Oh fuck me." he muttered under his breath. Setting his energy drink down, he bent over the keyboard so his fingers could fly against it. He followed the path the intruder had taken, seeing where it exactly it had gotten in (and making a mental note to patch it up), then through the various file folders and backdoors it had gone through and whatever else it had accessed, praying it hadn't taken anything of importance.

When he reached the end, he worked his way backward to find that whatever bug or virus it was had a specific intent. It worked its way through all the information ECHOnet had on both von Strucker and his experiments, and on the Avengers. The first part made a little bit of sense; he had assumed it was someone who had been watching them or someone related to Hydra, but the second was a bit confusing to him. And it didn't seem to be an attack - whatever the virus was hadn't erased anything at all, just...absorbed it. Like it wanted information on those two specific things. Nothing else.

While most would take it as a win and simply go back to restructure the defenses around ECHOnet, Dawson decided to take it a step further. He wanted to find out what exactly this bug was and who had sent it. For all he knew, it could be some Hydra thug who was about to come busting through their doors in search of Q. He wasn't about to let that happen.

Choosing to sit down instead of staying hunched over his terminal, he set himself up and fell into something familiar: tracking down the source of the virus. It was one of the first things he had learned when getting into his field of technological terror. A very simple thing to learn, granted, but something that had sparked his interest and was a clear building block in the development of his career.

"Earlier today, disaster struck Johannesburg, South Africa as the Hulk barreled through the city and destroyed buildings and homes." a news anchor reported from one of the television screens, "Officers tried to sedate and calm the monster down, relying on Tony Stark's Hulkbuster to help but efforts were unsuccessful. As officers tried to evacuate as many people as possible, Tony Stark took on the Hulk in a terrifying and explosive fight." It cut away to B-roll of the Hulk and Iron Man in some sort of double sized suit going on it. Roars echoed and blasts exploded on the screen, pairing nicely with the sounds of people screaming and random gunshots of lame help.

He glanced over his computer screens at the news, seeing the chaos of the city the Hulk had destroyed in a very Hulk-like way. The reporter kept talking about the fatalities and how not even Iron Man (eyeroll) could stop him right away. While it was a tragedy, Dawson wondered how it had happened.

Only having met Dr. Banner once before, during their time on the Helicarrier in 2012, Dawson got the impression that he had his Hulk tendencies under control. They wouldn't have brought him on the Helicarrier if he hadn't - and Dawson was sure Dr. Banner wouldn't have put himself in that sort of position if he wasn't confident in his ability to keep the Hyde to his Jekyll personality under control.

Before he could analyze it any further - though he knew he'd have to leave the true analyzing to Q, his program gave him a familiar  _ding!_ and drew his attention back to the screens. It had found the source of the bug.

"Oh you motherfucker." Dawson breathed out as Tony Stark's face appeared on the tv screen and the IP address of the Avengers Tower flashed on his computer screen. The bug or virus or whatever the hell it was came directly from the Iron Man himself. For some unknown fucking reason.

Soon after figuring out the source of the virus, Dawson began to make some calls. He knew he only had ample amount of time to make said calls before he became traceable, but he needed more information.

" _Hill."_ Maria answered curtly. He was surprised she had even picked up. But he figured when working in government and with Stark, there was bound to be a ton of unknown/blocked numbered calls.

"It's Dawson." he identified himself quickly, wanting to get straight to the point, "Any chance you know about some sort of virus Stark sent against me?" he asked, hoping Maria knew what he was referring to.

" _Uh, no. And kinda busy here. Dealing with other things."_ she responded, sounding as annoyed as he usually did when talking to people. So that's how it felt. He wasn't sure he liked it.

"Yeah, I've seen the news." he glanced at the television screens again to see that they were replaying the same B-roll footage, "What the hell happened?" he found himself asking, even though he knew he was running out of time.

" _Something that's too complicated to get into in the next minute and a half."_ her tone was dry, knowing that he had a ticking clock, " _They've gone AWOL until this thing cools down."_ she continued, still giving him nothing - but also weirdly something, " _That's all I got for you, Dawson."_ she sighed, but he stopped her before she hung up.

"The bug - is there anything - is it connected?" he tried to get some pieces of the puzzle together before his time was out. Maria paused for a moment and his eyes darted to the clock on the computer screen, knowing he was almost out of time.

" _Tony didn't send anything your way. On purpose."_ she added with a little bit of stress to it. Like it meant something more, " _None of them know where you are."_ she finished knowingly, and referring to certain people without even saying their names.

"And they aren't going to." he told her, and then ended the call as the clock struck time. A close call - literally.

Next up was someone who could probably tell him a bit more about the Hulk attack and the consequences from a general point of view rather than being associated closely with the Avengers themselves. He shook off the rather curt call with Maria while he pulled up Sharon's contact information - praying she hadn't changed numbers since SHIELD fell.

" _This is Carter."_ she answered after a few rings. He let out a slight breath before beginning to pace in front of his terminal. He wasn't so worried about timing on this call. Sharon was working with the CIA in Berlin, nowhere near them or any of the people who were looking for them. And he hoped that she wasn't one who was looking for them too (why would she be?).

"Yo, it's Dawson." he responded, hearing her take in a bit of a sharp breath.

" _Jesus Christ, Dawson are you serious?"_ she asked out in a hushed, yet almost angry tone, " _Where the hell did you disappear to? Is Q with you?"_ she fired off a line of questions causing Dawson to become annoyed rather quickly and pinch the bridge of his nose.

"I don't have time for this." he groaned, somewhat to himself, "I just need you to tell me what you know about the Hulk attack in South Africa." she sighed and then went quiet for a moment, almost like she was debating with herself.

" _We don't know much."_ she responded carefully, that Agent Voice coming through that he knew so well, " _But what we do know is that it took place in Johannesburg and-"_

"Okay, I know the basics." he cut her off rather quickly, "I need to hear what the news isn't reporting, Shar."

" _Fine."_ she all about snapped out, already tired of his attitude. She hadn't heard from him since SHIELD fell and now of all a sudden he was calling and asking about a random Hulk freak-out. " _The CIA wants answers as to why it happened and why Stark's Hulkbuster couldn't contain him. Due to their tactical response, the issue of the Avengers' management and responsibility is being discussed. People are talking about creating some sort of...protocol to keep them in check. We're trying to bring them in for questioning."_

"But they disappeared." he summed up, hearing her noise of agreement on the other line, "Any idea where they went?" he asked quietly, knowing she was privy to all sorts of things at SHIELD and could be holding back information as a way to protect her former co-workers and semi-friends until the CIA figured out what exactly they were gonna do.

" _If I did, they'd be in questioning right now, wouldn't they?"_ she said in a tone that told him not to push it further. Just in case there were ears on the line. But he could tell there was also some truth to her response. Of course Rogers wouldn't keep his former ex-neighbor up to date on all things Avengers, including the location of some super secret safehouse. He sighed, shoving his hand through his hair,

"Alright, thanks, Sharon." he didn't bother to wait to hear what she said next, hanging up the phone instead.

Settling back down at his terminal, he used the multi-screen set up to run different things at once. One was working on finding out where the virus or bug or whatever it was had disappeared to, while the other was looking through all the reports coming in about the Hulk attack. He had no idea if they were correlated or not, but he could try to find out.

Not that this was usually his job. Q was the one always doing the cross referencing or the figuring out of patterns. Though after what happened in the Hydra facility, she had barely done anything. Not really leaving her room, barely eating and surviving on what seemed to be a diet of only alcohol. The world seemed to be too much for her and she was struggling with learning ways to deal with it. And it wasn't like there was a WebMD page for it, or even a ton of people who could help. The few that could were either a ghost story or someplace secure in who knew where. So he had to take it upon himself to play both the roles.

"Yo, Q." he rapped his knuckles against her closed door about an hour later. He had hit a wall. He was nowhere near closer to figuring out where the Avengers had disappeared to or where the virus had slithered off to. There was just a solid dead end waiting for him. He needed to bring in the big guns.

Slowly, he pushed open the door to her bedroom, unsure what he was going to find. Marina had gone in every couple of days to clean out empty bottles or snack bags, but she never really talked to their other partner in crime. Dawson had tried to whenever she stepped out of the room, but she didn't really contribute to the conversation. Mostly meandered around the house almost aimlessly, wincing every so often or letting out a slight groan of pain. All efforts on finding Bucky had stopped and he had seemingly gave up his case against ex-Hydra agents who had tortured him. The only thing they had now was the small interaction between him and Q and she wasn't exactly forthcoming with a ton of information. The leads they had on him were going cold and they were beginning to end up exactly where they had started.

Not in her room like he expected, he found her sitting outside on one of the beach chairs that faced the ocean. He crossed her room and opened the door to the deck area, making her turn to glance over her shoulder at him. A tired smile tugged at the corners of her lips and she let her head fall into her hand while her elbow kept her arm upright on the arm of the chair.

"Hey." she greeted him softly, "Sorry, I didn't hear you." he gave her a quick, reassuring smile and a head bob while lowering himself into the opposite chair.

"You doing okay?" he asked carefully, not wanting to come off worried or like he was checking in on her like a doctor would, but wanting to let her know that he cared and was there. She nodded languidly and then winced a bit at the motion,

"Just needed to drown out the noise." she gestured to the ocean waves that were crashing against the shore creating an almost white noise sensation. He figured the noise she was referring to was the one in her head since he hadn't been that noisy all day. Or at least he hoped he hadn't. "What's up?" she asked, shifting gears and her position on the chair. Pulling one leg up and tucking it under the other, she half turned so she was facing him more.

"Uh, need your help with something. If you don't mind." he added on as a second thought. He was being so careful with her lately, not wanting to set her off or whatever. He hated it. Hated how what happened in the Hydra facility had changed both of them - one directly and one indirectly. God, if there was a way to make time move faster, he'd take it; he wanted to get over this weird adjustment hump they had been stuck in for a while.

Tapping at the tablet he had brought out with him, he then handed it over to her. While she read through what was on the screen, he explained what had happened earlier that day. From the virus to the Hulk attack to his calls with certain people - being quick to tell her that the call was secure and untraceable.

"So I just need to know if you know of anywhere they would go to lay low for a few days while this blows over." he gestured to the tablet she was holding, "I at least need to get in contact with Stark to see what the hell this thing is." he added almost bitterly, but also as an explanation as to why he was so focused on finding the Avengers. "Maria said something about how he didn't do it on purpose…" he trailed off. She met his eyes, brow furrowing a bit as she tried to work through what he meant by that.

"Who's with them?" she asked for a little more detail. If she knew which Avengers had been on the trip then it could help narrow down places they would go. Somewhere secluded where no one, not even the other Avengers, realized existed.

"Uh, Banner, Stark, Thor, Barton ...Nat and Rogers." his throat tightened at the mention of the final two Avengers. The only two who meant anything to either of them. She blinked at him, withholding a flinch at the other two names and choosing to focus on the others. Her brain flicked through the various file folders she had on them, almost picture perfect despite how long ago she had worked on their profiles. She hadn't touched most of them since 2012, except for Steve and Natasha's, but somehow all the others were crystal clear to her. No doubt a side effect of the serum.

"The homestead." she realized softly, eyes widening a bit, "They went to the homestead." he made a face, clearly not knowing what she meant by the vague answer of a homestead. He wasn't even sure he knew what a homestead was.

" _What_  homestead?" he asked, annoyed that he didn't know about this oh so secure location.

"Clint. Barton, he has a farmhouse. In Missouri. I helped set it up as one of my first SHIELD assignments." she explained, talking a bit faster than she usually did as if trying to get all the information out at once.

The memory came to her clear as day even though it was something she did over ten years before. She remembered Halliday tasking her with finding said place, saying it was of the utmost importance. An introduction into the world of working with semi-superheroes. Her first real SHIELD project as a real SHIELD agent. Something to be celebrated, but she was more nervous than anything. She couldn't fuck it up.

She took it seriously, more than she had anything before. Looking at everything they had on Clint and Laura, finding the perfect location, and making sure it was as safe as possible. The homestead was in the middle of nowhere Missouri, made for Clint's family to live after he was recruited into the SHIELD program. Previously, he and his wife had been living in some city that became too risky to stay in after a few close calls. And with a baby on the way, it was clear that they needed somewhere more family friendly.

"Made sure it was secure and kept off of SHIELD's radar. No one knows about it except for Fury." she summarized, not wanting to give away too much too soon.

"And you." he pointed out. She pulled down the corners of her mouth and nodded a bit. With all the projects she had been assigned to since then, the homestead hardly seemed like anything worth while. In fact, she had all but forgotten about it until he brought it up and she wondered if she would've remembered had it not been for the serum.

"And me." she agreed. He scoffed and sat back in his chair. Of course she would know about a secure farmhouse location. He shouldn't have wasted so much time on trying to do it himself. God, he really did need her didn't he?

"Guess we're going to Missouri." he reached over to take the tablet back from her, already intent on making up their travel plans. A nervous look slid over her face at the use of the word  _we_ , which referred to how they were  _both_  going to go.

"We?" she repeated, leaning forward slightly, "No, Dawson, I can't go with you." she shook her head, already knowing what was waiting for them at the farmhouse. An awkward reunion.

"Ha!" he barked out a laugh, "Bold of you to assume that I'd be leaving you here by yourself or splitting up again." he shook his head. As much as he wanted to go to Missouri alone and figure everything out himself, the stupid little voice inside his head was telling him not to. The last time he ignored that voice, Q had spent twelve days inside Hydra.

"I won't be alone. I'll have Marina." she argued back. He fixed her with an unamused look. She raised her eyebrows at him, daring him to challenge her.

"You're coming with me. I need a navigator." he made his tone final, hoping that Q wouldn't argue with him. She opened her mouth to, brain already outline all the different ways she could go about the argument and then coming up with her odds of winning against him. An immovable object, as her mind figured out.

"Fine." she gave in, shoulders slumping. She came to terms with the fact that arguing would be pointless. She'd be going no matter what.

"Maybe this'll be good for you." he said after a beat, giving her an almost hopeful smile, "Maybe this is what you need." referring to who was unknowingly waiting for them at the homestead. He didn't know if that were true or not, but maybe it could be.

Maybe they both could get the answers they wanted.

* * *

_A/N: I know there wasn't like...any action in this chapter but I needed a way to bridge everything together! I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. Please don't hesitate to leave a review or whatever! Love hearing all of your thoughts!_

_Also did you guys see Far From Home? I LOVED IT SO MUCH?! What were your thoughts? Also this would be a good time to tell you that I'm working on a Peter Parker/OC story that centers around Molly Proctor (aka Q's sister!) Do we like/dislike this idea? Let me know!_

_Thank you for taking time to read this story and for favoriting and following and reviewing! Love you all!_


	66. here now

_Lively jazz music filled his ears as he stepped into the dance club. Couples were twirling around the floor. Lightbulbs flashed brightly from cameras, which made him flinch at the suddenness of it. Walking slowly through the club, he saw groups of people at different tables throughout the club all talking and laughing rather loudly to be heard over the band. Someone even popped champagne. There wasn't a sad face in sight._

_From what he could gather, this wasn't just an ordinary jazz club. No, this was a celebration. Banners hung across the ceiling, shouting victory. Men in uniforms were reuniting with their wives and friends who had survived. Celebrating their win. And a quick glance down at himself proved that he was supposed to be one of them. He was dressed in his uniform - not his Captain America one, but his Army one. He hadn't worn it since he became Captain America. Hell, he wasn't even aware he still had it._

_Only that wasn't the only thing that was off. Against the one wall, two uniformed men were getting into a bit of a tussle. There were two other uniformed men at a different table - one who was wiping off a wine stain of the other with a cloth napkin. At first glance, Steve could've swore it was a man trying to stop the bleeding of a bullet wound. Another champagne bottle popped, echoing off like a gunshot. The flash of the cameras were as bright as the explosive devices he came in contact with on the field._

" _Are you ready for our dance?" he heard a familiar voice ask from behind him. Turning at the same time another camera flash went off, he came face to face with Peggy. His Peggy. Not the older version of herself, the one who barely remembered him, but the one_ _he_   _remembered. The woman who didn't take no for answer, stood up for what was right and never made him feel less than. The woman who he promised a dance to some seventy-odd years ago. Her hair was pulled back in curls, lips painted in her usual red and she was wearing a blue dress that accentuated all of his favorite parts about her._

_Before he could answer, or take hold of her extended hand, another bright flash went off. A shrill ringing pierced his ears. He ducked his head down and away, glancing behind him only to catch sight of Q standing on the other side of the room, by the exit. She was dressed in the same outfit she had worn on their non-date date. The butterfly hairpin twinkled under the lights of the jazz club and she gave him a smile that made his heart leap to his throat._

_Without even realizing it his feet moved toward her and away from Peggy. The music of the jazz club faded away into a slow song - the one that had been playing while she danced around in her socks in his apartment in DC: "Kiss me once, then kiss me twice, then kiss me once again." He reached for her, wanting to be close to her again, hold her in his arms._

" _Hi, baby." she greeted him warmly. Lovingly._

" _Steve," Peggy's voice made him turn - the sudden loudness of the jazz club filling his ears once more, "The war's over." she told him while he stepped back over to her, "We can go home."_

" _We_ _are_   _home." Q reminded him and he looked back over his shoulder at her, seeing now that she was standing on the porch of a house. One with a swing and a blooming garden._

" _Imagine it." Peggy got his attention. Her face was full of longing. Longing for a life the two of them should've had together. Could still have together, if he chose her._

" _Steve," he felt Q's hand on his arm, her grip firm but still soft, "Why won't you come home to me?" she asked, voice wavering a bit._

" _You're already home with me." Peggy's hand laid on top of his shoulder. Her eyes were insistent, telling him to make the right choice. He had to choose between her and the life he wanted in the past or Q and the life he dreamed of when he woke up in the present. He was being torn between the two lives he lived, but only one had a future._

_Another bright lightbulb flash went off and suddenly, he found himself in the middle of the dance floor. First he started dancing with Peggy, all classically done up and looking like they belonged right where they were. They danced liked they should've before he went into the ice: one hand on her hip, the other holding her hand._

_But when he spun her out, Q spun back in with her wild waves flying out behind her and her bright outfit standing out against the rather drab color scheme of the club. Her hands wrapped around his neck and he found his snaking around her waist to pull her closer to him. She was all laughter and fun love while Peggy was subdued smiles and serious love. Both women were incredible in their own ways and meant something to him at different points in his life. And he loved them both._

_This went on for a minute or two. His partners switching out whenever he dipped one or spun out another. Peggy, Q. Jazz club, slow song. Classic life in the past, modern life in the present. He was beginning to get dizzy. Dizzy in love._

_Then the room went quiet. Deadly quiet. Peggy and Q were gone - as were the rest of the patrons of the club. Leaving him standing in the middle of the dance floor, alone. Because in truth, he didn't deserve either of those women. He deserved to be alone. Forever._

The warm water suddenly turned ice cold, jolting him out of his memory. He stepped back from the spray to take a deep breath in, pressing one hand against the wall of the shower. The memory of what the woman with the red hands, the Maximoff girl, had made him see was still fresh in his mind. While he had been in plenty of fistfights before, never had he had his mind played with like that. It made him feel entirely too vulnerable and he wished he knew of some way to defend himself against it.

The vision itself was something that was going to haunt him for a while. Being forced to choose between the two worlds he had lived in, fallen in love in. Between two women who were completely their own persons and came into his life at different points. And while he knew he had made his choice with Q, it didn't mean he hadn't thought about the  _what ifs_ since she left him. What if he hadn't crashed the plane? What if he had been able to live that life with Peggy? And his wonderings were brought out and played out for him like a scene in a bad movie. One that he was stuck in until the enhanced decided it was over.

After he had finished his shower, he wrapped himself in one of the towels that he had been given and stepped out into the guest room to find that a change of clothes had been laid out for him on the bed. He assumed Laura Barton, Clint's  _wife_ , had done that and was immensely grateful. A big part of him felt bad for just showing up in her home unannounced. She didn't have to be as welcoming as she had been.

And while she clearly knew all about them, none of them knew about her. Another SHIELD secret that made a slightly bitter taste form in his mouth. The secrets were never going to end, were they? Even among his teammates. The people he was supposed to be able to trust no matter what. But he knew he shouldn't hold it against Clint. He wanted to keep his wife and family safe while he saved the world. Steve could understand that.

Once dressed, he made his way outside. He needed to clear his head and couldn't very well stand in the shower any longer. Bruce and Nat still needed to wash off the dirt and grime of the battle in South Africa - and he had used up the last of the hot water. The fresh air and sun was a welcome change to the smoggy and dark, humid environment that they had faced off against Ultron and the Maximoff twins. Even just taking a deep breath was enough to calm himself a bit more.

There were two times where he pictured himself in a place like the homestead. A home with family he loved. First, before he crashed into the ice. He imagined him and Peggy settling down after the war, in a home together to begin building something good out of all the bad they had seen. A simple life, maybe, but nothing would come to harm them.

The second time was after he fell in love with Q. Visions of them having a family together danced in his dreams. Different than the life and home he pictured with Peggy. Somewhere off the grid, where no one knew that he was once Captain America. Somewhere he could just be Steve Rogers. A place he could return to after a long battle or whatever it was and know he was coming home to someone who loved him and kept him safe.

But that all disappeared. Once when he was revived from the ice seventy years too late. Again when Q left him without a goodbye. Now, he wasn't sure if he'd ever get anything like what Clint had. And maybe that was okay. Maybe he didn't deserve it.

As he walked down the dirt road, he heard the sounds of wheels crunching against the ground. Ears perking up, he looked down the path and saw a car coming toward him. He slowed to a stop, on alert. No one else was supposed to know about the homestead, Clint had made that very clear. And he wasn't about to let anyone who could be deemed a threat get anywhere close to Clint's family.

The car stopped several feet in front of him. He waited, fists clenching in preparation. He was sure he could take on whoever was in the car. It was only  _one_  car after all. The driver's side door opened, letting the man step out.

"You wanna get out of the way or do you want me to run you over?" Dawson called out, in his usual annoyed tone. He stood behind the open car door and rested his arm on top of it. The wind blew his long, shaggy brown hair into his face, but he hadn't changed that much since the last time Steve saw him.

Still, Steve's fists didn't unclench; either out of skepticism or anger, he wasn't sure. This could be another one of the enhanced mind tricks. Or it could not be and Dawson could be standing there, reappearing after over a year, acting like nothing had happened. That explained the anger.

Hearing the another door open, his eyes flicked over to the passenger side of the car. As soon as his gaze fell on her, he swore his heart stopped for a moment. Q stood behind the door of the car, one hand holding onto the top like she was trying to hold herself upright. Her wild waves gently blew out behind her thanks to the soft wind, and even though she was still quite a few feet away, he could still make out the features of her face. Somehow Dawson looked the same, but she looked  _extremely_ different. Not wearing any makeup, there were dark bags under her rather sunken eyes. Her lips were chapped and he bet the way she was chewing on her bottom lip didn't help. She didn't say anything, just locking eyes with him the way she always did before.

Emotions rolled over him like waves crashing against the shore. One after the other, in a chaotic moment before being pulled back out only to crash again. Over and over and over. Anger, love, worry, sadness, happiness, guilt, anger, sadness, joy, concern, love, love, love, anger. He couldn't decide which emotion to focus on, they were all too much. It was too much, to look at her, to see her again after a year without her. See her again after knowing what she had been through. See her again after she had left him without warning.

Instead of saying anything, or acknowledging either of them in any way, he turned and walked back down the path he had come up. Clenching and unclenching his fists, his mind filled with questions. What the hell they were doing there? Why now of all times did they decide to come back? What did they want? What was he supposed to do? So much for clearing his mind.

As Steve walked away from them, Q glanced over the top of the car to meet Dawson's glance. He let out a deep sigh as Q continued to chew on her bottom lip. Tears were filling up and threatening to spill over. While he was a bit empathetic toward her and what happened, he knew Steve wouldn't be very happy to see them. She should've known as well - what with her ability to read people or whatever. But maybe she suspended what she knew in hopes that he would surprise her. Surprise her with a better reaction than what they were given.

"This was a fucking bad idea." she muttered, wiping under her eyes and then getting back into the car. Dawson followed suit and they both sat in silence for a long moment before she spoke, "I don't want to do this."

"We're already here. You already saw him." he pointed out with a gesture to Steve's ever retreating back.

"And you saw how he looked at me!" she cried out, bursting into tears as she did so, "Fuck!" she pressed a hand against her forehead, leaning her elbow on the window. "God, can we just go?" she asked, rubbing her hand over her forehead. A headache was coming on and this reunion was not going to help it. 

"Uh, no." he answered without any sympathy, "We're here. We had to do this eventually. And eventually is now, so." he put the car back in drive and started down the rest of the driveway. Q didn't even both fighting. She was too focused on Steve's reaction.

A lifetime seemed to have passed between them, even though it was only a little over a year since they saw each other last. He hadn't changed a bit. Still wearing clothes that were too tight on him - though she figured that was a byproduct of where they were. He had started wearing his hair back the way it was before she met him: in the superhero swoop. She hated that swoop. It made him look too formal. She liked the tussled hair look he had started donning when they were together - she could run her fingers through it without worrying about messing it up too much.

Even with the year that passed, he still wasn't very good at hiding his emotions from her. Or maybe he was and she was just able to see them better thanks to the effects of the serum. She could tell he was going through a bunch of them at once - always coming back to anger. God, he was so pissed at her. And for good reason too.

He didn't even say anything. Not that he needed to, or that he was supposed to. But she at least expected a  _hello._ Stupid of her to expect something from him after taking away everything. Maybe she should've said something first. Too late for that.

Only having ever seen pictures of the homestead, it was clear when they pulled up to the house that Clint had done some work on it during his free time. It looked less like a SHIELD safe house and more like a home. A pang of jealousy went through her; she knew she would never get a chance at something like that. Not anymore.

Thankfully, there was only a few people outside when they got there: Clint, his son, Laura, Tony Stark and Steve. Not enough people who knew what happened and would hold it against them.

"Agent Proctor, hi." Laura greeted her once Q got out of the car. She was obviously surprised - why the hell would Q be showing up out of the blue to the homestead? The last time the women saw each other was years prior when Q did a home visit to make sure everything was in place and the family was safe. She was surprised that Laura remembered her.

"Hi, Mrs. Barton." Q addressed her respectfully, even though there were only several years in between them. She gave Laura a timid smile, trying to pull herself up a bit straighter and look as professional as she possibly could despite her current state. "Sorry for dropping in unannounced." she gestured lamely toward the house. Laura shook her head, holding her hands up as she did,

"It's alright. Don't worry about it. We have plenty of room." she assured her warmly. Like the mother she was. Q smiled at her and then nodded as Dawson shut the door of the car, already brandishing a finger at Tony.

" _You,"_ he glared at him, "I have some choice words for you, buddy." he let out a dry, scathing laugh. Tony's eyebrows rose at Dawson's greeting that sounded much more like a threat, "We need to have a  _very_  serious talk." he seethed out, having let his frustration stew for the entirety of a red-eye flight and drive through rural Missouri.

"Sorry, cowboy, I have a previous engagement." Tony tilted his head at him, "But if you'd like to call and make an appointment, I'd be happy to see if I can fit you into my schedule." he finished rather sassily. Dawson narrowed his eyes at him, opening his mouth to say something else when Laura butted in.

"He's taking a look at our tractor." she tried to alleviate the clear tension between the two men, "You're more than welcome to help him out." she offered a solution for her to get her tractor fixed and to let Dawson say whatever it was he wanted to say to Tony in private. He glanced to Laura before looking over at Q, who shrugged. "Or if you want to get cleaned up first, we have a couple showers and I can lend you clothes if you need them. Lunch is still on the table." she continued to offer her house and home, the Southern hospitality coming out.

At the mere mention of a home-cooked meal, both Dawson and Q shared a look. It had been a while since either of them had anything close to it. And while Dawson really wanted to yell at Tony for creating some sort of technologically charged murder-bot, he knew Q would want to talk to Steve in private. They communicated silently before Dawson took in a breath and pushed aside his pride (for once in his life) and gave in first. He'd take one for the team for now. He gave Laura as warm of a smile as he could manage.

"I'll, uh, take you up on your lunch leftovers, Laura." he rocked forward on his toes, hands on his hips, "Thank you." he added lamely. She nodded and gifted him with what a warm smile was supposed to look like before beckoning him to follow her. Dawson gave one last glance over to Q, who stayed where she was; she could feel Steve's eyes on her.

Dawson climbed the stairs of the porch, she watched as Clint stepped in his path for a moment. He had pulled himself up to his full height and looked somewhat intimidating despite how he usually carried himself. There was a tense moment before Clint stepped aside, obviously not wanting to make a scene in front of his wife or his kid but giving Dawson enough of a hint to let him know that he was  _not_ happy with Dawson's life choices - especially concerning the ones that involved Nat. That would be a conversation for later.

The Barton family went with Dawson into the house, leaving Q with Tony and Steve. Steve grabbed another log from the pile and swung his axe down on it. For a split second, she regretted her choice to stay outside. Steve was wielding an axe and he was angry at her. She knew deep down he wouldn't do anything to hurt her, but still…

"Wasn't I paying you to help privatize global security?" Tony asked her with a step toward her and a tilt of his head, "Just so you know, you didn't give a two weeks which means technically you've missed over a year of work, so...you're fired." he said matter of factly, close enough to her to pat her shoulder with his hand. She flinched at the sudden, rough touch, her body too sensitive to handle it without warning. The traveling had been hard enough on her body, even with intense noise cancelling headphones and a black-out eye mask. She hadn't had enough time to recover, which made Tony's touch much worse than he intended it to be on her.

"Great. Make sure to send me the forms to fill out so I can collect unemployment." she muttered out. He barked out a laugh,

"Oh no, you won't qualify for that." he shook his head before removing his hand from her shoulder and walking past her to the barn, "Nice to see you, Girl Interrupted!" he dug into her appearance, making her wince. She knew she wasn't as put together as she used to be, but she had been through some shit.

Shaking off Tony's touch, she tried to refocus and settle the neurons in her brain as they began to rapid fire. But being outside was hard, especially in such a nature filled place like the homestead. Somehow she knew everything that had happened or had yet to happen. There was the sound and feel of the wind.  _A cold front was moving in despite the season._ The way the ground was a bit soft under her shoes.  _It had just rained there._  The sun pricked her skin while the taller pieces of grass tickled her ankles.  _Clint hadn't gotten the chance to mow the lawn._  If she could describe the amount of smells around her, she would, but there were just too many. A buzzing sound flitted by her ear, making her flinch at the sound because it reminded her of the buzzing she heard in the Hydra facility.

Steve's axe came down hard against the wood he was splitting and she jumped at the harsh sound against the rather peaceful background. Her wide eyes flicked to his and noticed how he was looking at her almost curiously. Like he was confused by how she was acting. Which made sense. She was sometimes confused by how she acted these days.

They stared at each other in silence for a long moment. She could feel that her body was shaking slightly at the overload of sensations going on. He moved the wood he split to his pile and set up another log. She could already picture the motion and the sound that would come from his axe swing.

"Please don't." she stopped him rather quietly, already tensing when he swung his arm up. He paused in the motion, eyes returning to her. And looking at her,  _really_  looking at her. God, she was pretty much folded into herself. Before, she always stood up straight - saying that it made her look taller and more professional so that more people would take her seriously. Her hands were shaking despite being wrapped around her midsection. Like she was cold, but it was a warm day out. He knew he didn't owe her any favors, but he still found himself setting the axe down on the ground. The Bartons had enough wood for now. "Thank you." she breathed out in relief, sounding unlike he had ever heard her before.

"What are you doing here, Q?" he asked one of the many questions filling his head, ignoring the one he  _really_ wanted to ask:  _Was she okay?_  She chewed down on her bottom lip before shrugging,

"I, uh, Dawson, needed to talk to Tony, obviously, and dragged me along with him. I didn't want to come here." she admitted, knowing he would take it as her saying he didn't want to see him - which was only partially true.

"You shouldn't have." he agreed with her, picking up the log he had been mere moments away from splitting. She nodded, not as surprised as she should've been by his answer. Her brain already catalogued it as a reaction to her statement. Along with others, but she was glad he went with the lesser of the evils.

"You can just pretend I'm not." she offered him an out, "We'll probably only be here for a few hours. I can stay out of your way." she told him with a tight smile. Despite his anger, his heart sank at the thought of her leaving again. She had just come back.

"No, Q, you don't have to..." he nodded to himself, "We're adults." he said matter of factly. She gave him a ghost of a smile, a joke on her lips,

"Some of us more like grandpas." she let her joke slip through, surprising herself even. When was the last time she had made a joke? She couldn't remember. He stared at her for a moment before scoffing and shaking his head at her attempt to relieve some of the awkward tension brewing between the two of them. It had lightened it a bit, but not completely.

"I'm gonna head inside." she said after a moment, excusing herself from the situation, "Wash off this red-eye flight." she gestured to herself, giving Steve a chance to let his eyes roam over her body again now that the car door wasn't hiding her from him. The clothes she was wearing were swallowing her, about two sizes too big, even though she had always had an average body shape before. Somehow her jawline had gotten sharper, skin dotted with acne scars he had never seen. Her hands continued to shake even though there was nothing he could think of that could cause them to shake like they were.

"How've you been?" he found himself asking even though she turned away from him. Footage of the cameras in the Hydra facility came back to him. While he was sure she had no idea that he had seen the things she had been put through - and now wasn't the time to discuss them, she turned back to him with a small, knowing smile as if she  _did_  know what he was referring to.

"I'm alive." she responded. He nodded, jaw clenching tightly at the thought of what she had been through. As angry as he was at her and the decisions she made, he still loved her and cared for her, which meant he  _hated_ seeing what Hydra had turned her into. How they had broken her down and left her to build herself back up on her own.

There was a beat of silence between the two of them, both of them locking eyes, wanting to say things that they couldn't or didn't or hadn't. Then, she stepped up to him, timidly placing a hand against his cheek. Feather-light, fingers twitched sporadically as if afraid of what she would feel or what he would do, her skin was warmer than it ever was. His anger and frustration rumbled deep in his chest, but he couldn't help but lean into her touch. Having gone without it for over a year, he didn't realize how much longed for it. As soon as he accepted her touch, her fingers stilled for the first time since he'd first seen her. Her eyes fluttered shut, letting out a slow quiet breath as if she was focusing on something.

"I'm here." she assured him quietly, but also sounded like she was reassuring herself.

"But for how long?" he found himself asking, surprising both of them at how his voice sounded a bit rougher than usual. Almost broken, letting his hurt and ache peek through the serious facade he held onto for the first couple of minutes they had seen each other again. She opened her eyes at the question and searched for the small specks of green against his blue eyes. She didn't have an answer for him, and even if she did, she knew it wouldn't be what he wanted to hear.

So she didn't respond, just kept her hand on his cheek for another moment, finally feeling anchored for the first time in a long time.

* * *

_A/N: A reunion of sorts! I hope you're all okay with it so far! And this is just the beginning of it tbh! It's gonna be slow and awkward and angsty for sure haha. Let me know if you have any thoughts or comments! Did you think it was going to happen differently, or was this how you pictured it? Tell me! And thank you to all those who have reviewed and continued to read and review! I love you all so very much. :)_


	67. reminders

Leaving Q and Steve outside to talk about whatever they needed to talk about - or decided to talk about first, Dawson followed Laura into the kitchen area of her home. It was exactly what he expected a family home to look like, but also still surprised him a bit cause Clint of all people lived there. Clint, the guy who shot arrows and was friends with an ex-KGB super spy. It was warm and welcoming, like a home should be like. Very unlike the home he grew up in and much different than the beach house he and Q had been living in. Without paying too much attention to the details of the house (he'd leave that to Q) he let Laura lead him to the kitchen area. She talked about there being a shower in the guest room for him to use along with whatever was in the bathroom and how if he needed anything, all he had to do was ask. A nice, welcoming gesture from a woman who knew next to nothing about him.

There were sandwich makings laid out for him to pick at. He thanked her once again, then started to build a healthy sized sandwich out of what was left. Laura got the kids out of his way, herding them into the living room to play with their toys. The only person who didn't leave was Clint.

Too focused on building his sandwich, he didn't notice until he went to take a bite only to have Clint snatch the half out of his hand. He kept his now empty hand in the air, momentarily stunned by the action, before growing annoyed. His eyes flicked to where the archer was sitting on the opposite side of the counter. He took a bite of the sandwich and then gave him a satisfied grin. Dawson let out a huff and then picked up his remaining half, leaning down to meet it so that Clint didn't have the opportunity to steal it.

"You know I never really had an opinion about you before, Starowicz." Clint commented, calling him by his last name - which no one ever did, just like no one ever called him by his first name, "But then, you know, you got involved with Tasha and…" he motioned to him with the half-eaten sandwich, "Again, still no real opinion." Dawson rolled his eyes at the clear jab, "Then you went and broke her heart." Clint sighed, examining the sandwich a bit before his eyes flicked to Dawson's, "So now I have the lowest opinion of you."

"Guess it was good that you didn't have one to begin with." he shot back, unfazed; most people didn't like him to begin with, "Didn't have very far to fall." he raised his eyebrows up and Clint chuckled.

"Yeah, right…" he trailed off and chewed thoughtfully for a moment before speaking again with his mouth half full, "You really hurt her, you know." he told him. And for a brief moment, a weird feeling struck Dawson - one he never really felt before but he didn't like it. Didn't like knowing that he had caused Nat any sort of pain. Emotional or otherwise. Even if he had suspected it, Clint confirming it was somehow worse. "And, God, I really want to hurt you too." he laughed a bit as if the threat was in any way funny. Dawson swallowed back a lump in his throat, not liking how this conversation was going, "But my family's in the next room. My kids. My wife. People who love me." he brushed some crumbs from the countertop, "And knowing you'll never have that, never find someone to love you that way again, is enough for me. You don't deserve anything like this and I doubt you'll ever get it." he finished with a serious look. Dawson shifted uncomfortably on the other side of the counter. A rock was beginning to form in his stomach and he glanced down at his half of the sandwich, wondering if it was the food's fault, " _That_  and I just redid the kitchen and really don't feel like destroying it." he made a face as he walked around the corner to toss his crumbs into the trash.

Clapping his hand against Dawson's shoulder, a firmness to the motion to let Dawson know that he was unevenly matched against the archer. That he could take him down if he really wanted. Based on the conversation they just had, Dawson would let him too. He deserved it. Just like Clint said.

Truly alone, Dawson finished the last of his sandwich then cleaned up his mess. It was the least he could do and, while he didn't mind if Clint had such a poor opinion of him, for some reason he didn't want Laura too as well. He wanted to show her he was more than whatever terrible story Clint had told her, even if it was true. There were enough people in the house who hated him, he didn't want more. Though any other time before then, he wouldn't have cared, but now he did. And he wasn't sure why. Maybe because he knew he fucked up and hurt people that he had surprisingly ended up caring about more than he originally thought. Weird. Is that how other people felt all the time when they fucked up? He knew he didn't like it, but he wasn't sure it was going away any time soon.

He avoided the living room, not wanting to face off with Clint again - nor do it in front of his family either. Laura had said there was a guest room upstairs with a bathroom for him to use to a shower. He meandered up the stairs, glancing over the pictures that hung on the wall of Clint and his wife and kids. All while trying to forget the weird sting that came with Clint telling him that he would never have anything like what was on the walls of the house. That was probably true, and Dawson thought he was okay with it, but apparently not.

Not that he ever wanted kids to begin with, but the idea of having someone to grow old with had been a semi-pipe dream for him. He didn't need kids to define his family - hell he could barely take care of himself so why bring a kid into the mix, just someone who loved him. Maybe throw a dog in there or something. But Clint was pretty sure he wouldn't ever get that and hell, maybe he lost his only chance at it when he left Nat like he did.

Entering the room that he assumed was the room Laura referred to as the guest room, he opened the bedroom door at the same time the bathroom door inside the room opened. Nat stepped out in a bathrobe, hair damp from the shower she had so obviously just taken. She glanced over at him, both of them making eye contact with each other.

At the sight of each other, they froze. Dawson immediately wanted to close the door and pretend he had never walked into the room, but his reaction time was slow. She already had three different exit strategies planned, but couldn't execute them. A glimpse of fear mixed with pain flashed over her face, so quick that if he blinked, he'd have missed it. But he didn't, and that made his heart sink to his stomach. He had never seen any sort of emotion like that on her face before, usually hidden under a mask of small smirks and amused glances.

"Sorry, I didn't realize -" he started to explain himself. Of course he knew Nat was there, and he had spent the flight imagining how their conversation would go. The things he would say to her if she said certain things to him, but all of that went out the window the moment he laid eyes on her. God, all he wanted to do was kiss her. Apologize for being such an asshole. Explain to her why he left, why he staged the fight. Tell her where he had been. All of it. He wanted forgiveness. But he knew he didn't deserve it.

"Fancy seeing you here." she commented with a raise of her eyebrows, her usual unbothered expression settling back on her face. He let out a huff of an awkward laugh, hand fiddling with the doorknob.

"Yeah, I…" he trailed off, not even knowing where to begin with his explanation, "Shit, Nat, I don't know." he sighed, gesturing to her, "I don't know what the fuck I'm doing here - I mean, I came here to talk to Tony about some computer virus he released and I came up  _here_  to get a shower because we've been traveling for it feels like twenty-four hours straight and you're here and I knew you were gonna be here - I had all these things I wanted to say to you, imagined this, us, going a ton of different ways but I just...fuck." he settled on, deciding it was better to shut his mouth now rather than continue babbling. He never got like this. He always knew what he was going to say or never really thought before he spoke either. And while he  _certainly_ didn't think before that gibberish came out, it was different than usual. It came from the heart. His fucked up, broken, sad, heart.

"Steve used up the last of the hot water." she finally responded after a moment, sounding like she wanted to add something else but didn't.

"Of course he did." he sighed, leaning on the doorknob a bit, "What a dick." he muttered mainly to himself. Nat tried to hide her smile, ducking her head down a bit before lifting it back up - all traces of the hidden smile gone.

"There's towels in the cabinet above the toilet." she tilted her head back to the bathroom, "Laura said we could use whatever we needed." he nodded, hands falling to his hips.

"Yup, yeah, she told me that too." he licked his lips and glanced at her, "Nice of her to do that." he flashed her a quick grin, hating how awkward and polite the conversation had gotten. Like they were acquaintances rather than exes. Or maybe they were synonymous now; it had been over a year. Nat gave him a half smile, one that he had never seen on her before, and then tightened her bathrobe a bit.

"I'll get out of your way then." she crossed the room, gathering up a pile of clothes that had been laid out for her. He noticed there was no pile for him, but he bit back his complaint. He took in a breath, knowing he needed to say something, but just not knowing  _what_  to say.

Nat moved to exit the bedroom, making him push the door back a bit more to give her room to slide by him. She paused as she got in front of him, looking up at him a bit, and he saw how much hurt was in her eyes despite the tight, polite smile on her face. Hurt tinged with...a little bit of fear? He blinked, not knowing if that was really the emotion; Nat was never scared and even if she was, she hid it extremely well. But the small flicker of fear and pain that he saw on her face when he first walked in, danced in the greens of her eyes. She had no reason to be afraid of him. She never had. And it threw him off balance, made him feel a bit differently; since when was  _the_ Black Widow afraid of him of all people. Still, his heart yearned for her, wanting to make her feel better - assure her that he wasn't going to hurt her. Not again. Not ever again.

Acting on instinct, he moved his hand up to cup the side of her face, supporting her tilted head. His tongue darted out to lick his lips and he leaned closer to her. Mere centimeters away, he could smell the shampoo and soap she had used. It was different than usual, but definitely not in a bad way. It made him long for what could've been.

Knowing she could easily stop him, he took comfort in the fact that she hadn't yet. Or at least not until he brought his lips down to kiss her. Then did she move away from him, head first, creating space in between them. Space that had existed ever since he left.

"You can't do that anymore." she reminded him with a raised eyebrow, "Remember?" she asked, almost looking amused at his effort even though the sadness and fear behind her eyes didn't go away. He took in a deep breath through his nose and then nodded.

"Right." he moved past her, into the bedroom and leaving her by the door, "No, yeah I remember. Quite clearly." he shoved a hand through his hair, turning in a half circle to end up looking at her again.

"You don't get to be offended by it either." she pointed out, arms crossing over her chest, " _You_ left, remember?"

"Stop reminding me of the things I did or can't do anymore!" he suddenly shouted out, tossing a hand in her direction, "Okay?! Cause I remember! I remember, Nat." he lowered his voice, knowing there were still people in the house who could hear their lovers' quarrel. "Fuck." he breathed out, running a hand through his hair again.

"Was it worth it?" she asked after a moment, perking an eyebrow at him. His eyes flicked from where they were focused on a random spot on the ground to her face, staring at her for a moment before pushing his cheek out with his tongue and shifting his wide stance.

"I don't know yet." he muttered with a slight shake of his head, "Most days, no. Especially recently. I…" he trailed off, knowing he had the perfect opportunity to apologize. But he wasn't one who usually decided to be the bigger person and did such a thing, "I know I regret leaving the way I did. Every day." he admitted, the closest thing to an apology he could get without having to say the actual words. Her face softened for a brief moment before the unbothered expression returned.

"An ever growing list, huh?" she asked knowingly. As if they both had a list of regrets regarding the situation they were in. He wondered if she regretted not forcing him to stay. Sometimes he wished she had.

"Something like that." he fiddled with the edge of his shirt and then sighed.

A quiet slowly filled the room. There was plenty more to say, yet neither one of them wanted to show their hand. Dawson was determined not to let anyone see his emotions - which might of been what had gotten him into this situation in the first place. Nat had been trained to keep calm in stressful situations and not let her emotions get the best of her - something she was trying so hard to do despite being faced with her ex mere hours after the vision she was trapped in.

"Make sure you pull the curtain over when you're finished in the shower." she advised after a moment, "Laura thinks keeping it pushed back lets mold form." she backed up her advice. He sighed and nodded, hands settling back on his hips. Giving him a half smile, she left the room without another word.

The door shut behind Nat and she immediately leaned back against it. A slow, controlled breath exited her while she let her eyes flutter shut. As soon as she did, flashes of the scene she had been stuck inside darted across.

_She was sure it had been years since she had been inside the Red Room. But nothing had changed. There was still an eeriness to it that clung to her like a second skin. Her stomach twisted as she walked down the massive grand staircase. The air was heavy, almost like a fog had descended over the Room. The familiar classical tune ignited an involuntary reaction: to fall in line with the rest of her fellow ballerinas. Her fellow sisters._

_Stepping off the staircase, the room directly in front of her was filled with a half a dozen ballerinas. All looking exactly the same - a lesson in blending into their environment. The muscles in her body twitched with anticipation of the upcoming movements. The fluid motions that on the surface looked nothing more than a graceful dance, but dig a bit deeper and you'd find the second side of the sword. The use these movements had in a physical fight. Striking with purpose. Defending only to survive. Completing the mission._

_She swore she had lived this day before. She remembered this day. It was the day before her graduation. The final tests were starting. Then the ceremony. Taken to the place where they removed the last thing that would keep them from getting distracted. The one thing they couldn't control. Besides their hearts - though some would say they managed a way to turn those into stone._

_She didn't want to graduate. She would find a way out of this. This time, she would find a way out of this. Because she wanted a chance. They should've allowed her a chance. But maybe this was her second chance._

" _You'll break them." Nat found herself saying, staring into the window of the room where the girls were ordered to go through the already flawless routine again. And again. And again. Perfection was expected, nothing less._

" _Only the breakable ones." her Mistress' voice responded without a hint of emotion, only lilted in the familiar Russian accent. Her gaze turned to where there were eight little girls watching from the far wall. All of them dressed in the Red Room uniforms and already sitting as poised as future Widows could be. The Red Room's lessons already beginning, "You are made of marble." her Mistress reminded her in a tone that made Nat's inner alarm go off. She turned to the side to face the older woman, seeing the distaste on her face. Not that that was anything new. Mistress rarely looked pleased. Still, she tilted her head up a bit and raised her eyebrows before she spoke again, "Or at least, you were supposed to be." Confusion grew in the pit of Nat's stomach, right alongside fear. What had she done?_

_With a tilt of her head, her Mistress indicated that she should follow her down the hall. Glancing one last time at the girls working through their routine again, Nat turned away. She walked like she was supposed to - light on her feet, hands by her sides, alert and ready in case of an attack. She was led down to another room, similar to the area the belladonnas were practicing in. Classic antique furniture dotted the room: a couch there, a few chairs over there, mirrors on the walls, and a baby grand in the corner. A couple of her other sisters were lingering in the room, going over combat moves they had learned earlier in the day to prepare for their final test._

_There was a man standing in front of the giant fireplace. His back was to her, dressed in all black with his hands clasped behind his back and long-ish brown hair just brushing the collar of his blazer. None of the other girls even ventured near him but as her Mistress stepped over to him, their eyes begin to flick from Nat, who had been left standing in the center of the room, to the man - all of them looking a little uneasy. The uneasiness slithered its way over to her, engulfing her and making her want to do nothing but run away. She shook the feeling off, knowing not to be affected by her sisters' emotions. She could only trust her own._

_Though a part of her wondered why she had been brought here. She had already proved she could kill a man without hesitation. Her eyes flicked over to the chair he had been sitting in when she had; the pool of blood that had dripped out of his head was already cleaned, but there were spots on the cushion. Was she meant to do it again? No, this man looked too close to her Mistress. The way she laid a hand on his shoulder and how he didn't even tense up like some of her other lackeys did._

_Then, he turned. And Natasha's heart dropped into her stomach. The back of her neck began to heat up while her hands involuntarily shook. Her knees buckled, but she refused to fall, refused to let them know she was reacting in such a way. But she was. Her entire world was crashing down around her._

_Because standing there, with his half pleasantly amused smirk, was Dawson. A man she trusted,_ _loved_   _even. And yet, there he was, standing next to her Mistress. He should've looked out of place, but he fit well with the environment around him. Like he was meant to be there, like he thrived there. Decked out in a form fitting black suit, hair smoothed back and then tucked behind his ears and facial hair trimmed to accentuate his features, he looked like one of those swarmy villains that were in his video games or whatever movie they watched together. He was holding a glass of whiskey in one hand, the other slipped into his pants' pocket. His eyes were locked on hers, almost like he could tell what she was thinking and feeling._

" _Hello, Natalia." his voice was much smoother than it had ever been. And he called her_ _Natalia_ _. It was always Nat with him, she was Nat. She was_ _his_   _Nat._

" _What's going on?" she asked back, hands curling into fists while her eyes darted from Dawson to her Mistress. A look of disappointment mixed with casual victory appeared on her face; like she was displeased with Nat but also proud that Nat seemed to lose whatever game she had unknowingly played. Now she had something to hold over Nat's head, force her to do things she didn't want to do anymore. Like the graduation ceremony. Fuck._

" _You've failed." Dawson answered simply. He took a step toward her and as much as Nat wanted to step back, she found that she was rooted in the floor beneath her. Forced to let this happen. "You were tested. And you failed, Natalia." he was close enough now where Nat could reach out and touch him._

 _And by God her head was screaming at her to fight - kick, punch, bite her way out of this because she had_ _failed_   _and she knew there were consequences for it. Betrayal flooded her bloodstream and she wanted to hurt him as much as he hurt her. But her heart was reminding her of all the_ _good_   _he had brought into her life - love, compassion, empathy, anger, things she had been missing because of her time in the Red Room. She loved him._

" _You fell in love." he voiced her inner thoughts aloud, even though he couldn't read her mind. Tilting his head a bit, almost pouting like he was pitying her, he continued, "And you thought I loved you back." he reached out for her chin, tilting it up a bit. She ground her teeth together, eyes finding his and searching for any signs of the man she loved in there. Any signs that this was a trick or that he was just playing the role to survive like she had. But there was nothing. No emotions, no flicker of amusement, just eyes boring into hers._

" _Stupid." her Mistress chimed in disgustedly. Nat's eyes shifted away from Dawson to where she was standing by the fireplace, watching their interaction. His grip on her chin got tighter, forcing her to look back at him._

" _Very stupid." he agreed with a slight laugh. She knew then that she had been nothing more than a plaything to him. A game. God, she really_ _was_   _stupid. She never should've let her emotions get the best of her. Let herself believe she could be loved and fall in love._

_He let go of her chin rather roughly and shifted back so he could have enough room to take a sip of his whiskey. Her fingernails were digging into the palms of her hands hard enough to break the skin. The edges of her vision were pulsing as he turned and stepped away from her, resettling next to her Mistress. The betrayal beat louder, in tune with her racing heart, as she kept her eyes locked on him._

_The room suddenly shifted and a young blonde woman was standing beside Dawson. Yelena. Her sister. Again, confusion returned for a split second; she could've sworn the last time she had seen her sister was ...well she didn't want to think about that time. And she didn't get a chance to really because Yelena had laid a hand on Dawson's shoulder, taking his attention away from Nat._

_He gave her a smile that he used to give to Nat. A look that was meant for her too. No one had ever looked at her that way, but apparently it was nothing special. He reached out to tuck a hair behind her ear, then moved to tilt her chin up a bit - touch much softer than how he had touched her._

" _There will be punishment for such failure, Natalia." her Mistress spoke, but Nat couldn't bear to tear her eyes away from where Dawson was softly kissing Yelena. A fire lit deep in her stomach, replacing the betrayal with pure anger. How dare he use and toy with her like that? Play her like a violin and reduce her to nothing but an emotional schoolgirl. She was a Widow for fuck's sake._

_A shot rang out, echoing around the room they were in. If they were anywhere else, the other girls would scream, run in terror and flee the scene. But these were her sisters. They didn't even flinch. Didn't turn away from their smooth, flawless routines._

_Nat's hands immediately went to her abdomen, skating around her stomach and chest in search of the bullet wound. There was nothing but the smoothness of her Red Room uniform. Then she looked over to where Yelena and Dawson were still standing close together. The glass of whiskey slipped out of his hand, shattering into a tiny million little pieces as it smashed against the wood floor. In one fluid motion, he fell to his knees, his hands pressing against the center of his chest. Then the room shifted again._

_In her hand was a literal smoking gun._

" _No!" Nat found herself gasping, the gun falling from her hands as quickly as it got there._ _She_   _had failed, not him._ _She_   _should be punished, not him._

" _It is time to take your place in the world, sister." Yelena's voice whispered in her ear. She could feel her presence behind her, hands coming around to steady Nat's shaking hands around the gun. She thought she had dropped it, but it was right back in her hand, aimed directly at Dawson. With Yelena's hand guiding her, she was forced to pull the trigger once again. This time neither of the girls even blinked at the sound or the kickback. Nat kept her eyes on him, feeling a rock settle in her stomach._

" _I have no place in the world." Nat responded, knowing it was true. Dawson was bleeding out on the floor, twitching every so often as he died slowly, painfully. Because of her._

_Maybe this was her punishment._

_A lesson in how emotions can be dangerous and used as a weapon against her._

* * *

A/N: Had to do a lil Dawsnat reunion too! Equality! I really loved writing her Wanda vision so I hope you guys enjoyed it! I'm going out of town next weekend for a week and a half so I'll try my best to push a chapter out beforehand, but I'm not sure I'll be able to so please don't hold it against me!

ALSO HAVE YOU SEEN ALL THE NEW MARVEL STUFF COMING OUT?! I'M SO HYPE! What are you most looking forward to? Do you have any ideas as to how you think any of the RiM characters can fit in? LMK!

Please don't hesitate to leave a review! I love hearing your thoughts and predictions! Thank you to everyone who has read/followed/faved and reviewed so far! I really appreciate it. LOVE YOU ALL!


	68. a long, hard road to forgiveness

Across the hall, Q was taking the quickest shower of her life. The water was too cold to have a proper "standing under the water and thinking about everything" moment. Instead, the water hit her skin hard and made her teeth click together. It reminded her of the water they doused her with when she was strapped to the chair in the facility. Right before they tasered her. Yet this was much better than the dark room she was trapped in, cold water aside it was otherwise rather warm. The kids' bathroom she was showering in was decorated as such: stickers on the tiled walls, toys on the edge of the tub for obvious bathtime and a colorful collection of different soaps and shampoos.  _Laura had bought them despite knowing they had plenty of the items already; her children wanted them because of the design of the bottles._  It was a little ironic, where she was, all things considering, but she didn't linger on it for long. The coldness of the water made sure of that.

She quickly washed the sweat and grime that came with international travel off her body with some of the clearly kid-friendly soap; it had a cartoon picture of Steve in his Captain America uniform. If it were any other time, she would laugh and tease him about it, but at that point, she just stared at it as if it would give her an answer. The shampoo she chose to use was in a bright pink bottle that had some sort of pony head on top of it - it smelled like cotton candy bubblegum. She had yet to meet Clint's kids, only having ever seen Laura when she was pregnant with Cooper, but she already learned a lot about them based on the brief moment she was in their shower. Even though they had separate rooms, they still shared a bathroom. Though managed to put their own flair on it: from the stickers, to the glitter infused toothpaste, to even the very Adult-Like razor that was still in the packaging.  _Cooper wanted to learn how to shave._

Wrapping herself up in one of the brightly patterned towels (it had butterflies all over it), she stepped out of the bathroom and into the adjoining kid's room. Lila's room, she figured when she picked it over Cooper's. With her pink walls and her princess decorations, it weirdly made Q feel warm and comforted. Like she didn't have to be afraid of what was lingering on the horizon or worry about the lack of a future she had with Steve. No one would ever hurt Lila, Clint would make sure of that until his dying day and just by simply being in her room, Q could understand that feeling of secureness. She was safe there.

The floor was still the same minefield of toys it had been when she first walked in and she carefully picked her way over to where she had folded her clothes on the chair next to the dresser. Without pause, she quickly reached for the bright purple comb that was resting amongst the brightly colored scrunchies and butterfly clips so she could at least try to detangle her hair. It would air dry, which would make it much more of a mess than it usually was, but she didn't feel comfortable asking Laura to use her hairdryer after she had already so graciously accepted them into her home despite not being aware they were coming. That and she was too tired to go through all that. And her arm was already getting tired simply from combing her hair.

Just as she began to pull on her grimy shirt - she was already grimacing at having to do so after having just washed herself, a knock came at the door, making her pause. Then the door slowly opened and she held her breath, thinking it was one of the kids. Which would make for an awkward explanation even though Laura had told her she could use the kids' shower. No one wanted to find a stranger in their bedroom. But instead of a small child or pre-teen walking through, it was Steve. They stared at each other for a long moment, his eyes widening a bit when he first realized she was there, while she couldn't find it in her to react. Her brain was already offering up thousands of ways their interaction would go down based on his reaction, stature and how he had walked in. She was just trying to deal with that first.

"Sorry, I thought you were still in the shower." he apologized rather stiffly, eyes glancing to the now open bathroom door.

"Just finished," she gave him a small smile, "Someone used up all the hot water." she explained as her excuse. There was a small twitch from his eyebrows that made a ping go off in her head.  _He had been the one to use up the last of the hot water._ But she didn't comment on it. Not the time for teasing or amusedly calling him out. She couldn't do that anymore.

"I, uh, asked Laura if she had some clothes you could borrow," her eyes flicked down to see that he was holding some clothes in his hands, "Figured you probably didn't want to stay in your travel clothes or that you even  _brought_  a change of clothes to begin with so…" he trailed off rather awkwardly then held the clothes out to her. She took them with a small, grateful smile.

"Thank you." she said quietly. The fabric beneath her fingers was soft and warm.  _Laura wore the shirt often._  He slipped his hands into the pockets of his running pants and nodded once, looking like he still had something more to say. Of course he did, he probably had a years' worth of things to say.

"When you're finished getting dressed, can we...can we take a walk?" he asked with a slight eyebrow raise. Though it seemed an innocent question, there was enough undertone that she knew what he meant by it. He wanted to say those things that he hadn't been able to for over a year. And he certainly didn't want to do it in the house of his fellow Avenger. That was understandable. She didn't want them to overhear it either. They probably already knew enough - or at least Nat did.

"Sure, of course." she agreed with a warm smile, trying to appear like she was following his lead. And she was. He had total control over this situation. She was just in the passenger seat, forced to go along for the ride. Unfortunately or not, remained to be seen.

He responded with a quick smile of his own, then turned and left her alone to change. She waited until the door was shut to let out a slow breath in an effort to calm herself even though it wasn't possible.

All the times she had imagined their reunion, this was never one of the ways she pictured it happening. What she did know was that it was going to be tough. Tough to listen to him yell at her about leaving; he was going to yell. He was angry with her, she could tell that much simply from when she first saw him. Hell, she didn't even need to  _see_  him to know that. It was understandable, and while she never thought she would be able to be welcomed back with open arms, it didn't mean it wasn't going to hurt any less.

Tough to put herself in his shoes. To hear about all the ways she hurt him. She knew she deserved that guilt. As it was, she was already carrying some of it. She just wasn't sure how she was going to be able to carry the rest. The worst part would be coming to terms with the fact that she really  _had_  lost his trust. Deep down, she knew she lost it the moment she left. That was the thing about knowing.  _Knowing_  was different than  _assuming_. It hurt more. Because it was the truth. His truth. And who was she to say it wasn't. She had to accept it and bear the weight.

Tough not to want to try to immediately fall back into how they were. Pretend like nothing was wrong. So many things were wrong - not just with herself personally, but with whatever was happening in the world: Bucky's revenge mission, Hydra's underground network, whatever threat that was looming which caused them to come back in the first place. They couldn't just be who they were in the Avengers Tower. Of course she still loved him, which is what would make it so hard not to long for the moments. The moments where she could just kiss him or hold him or look at him in a certain way. She couldn't go back. Neither of them could. They had to start over. It was only a hope that they could build something new, stronger, better from it. He just had to want it to - and she hoped he did.

Tough to be truly faced with all of her mistakes and fuck-ups; she knew it was her fault. Q took full, personal responsibility for her actions. This was no one's fault but her own. She did this. She ruined every good thing she had. Like she always had even before him. She was surprised she had managed to  _not_  ruin SHIELD - though maybe she was in a way, with her sex-ationship with Rumlow and all. But this time, she hoped she had learned her lesson. It was going to be a long, hard road to forgiveness. But it was one she was ready to start walking down.

This wasn't going to be a fun walk for either of them.

Steve waited for her on the steps of the porch. The afternoon had become cooler as the sun got lower in the sky. There wasn't much for any of them to do right that second - having come to the homestead to regroup and come up with a new plan against Ultron. Something that took into consideration the Maximoff twins, who they didn't realize were on his side until they met in South Africa. Even at the thought of them, a heaviness rolled over his shoulders like a fog. The song from the jazz club echoed in his head, but was interrupted by the sound of the porch door squeaking open.

Timid. That's the one word he would use to describe the way Q looked as she stepped out of the house. And it never even reached the list of words he would have used previously describe her. But the way she wrapped her arms around her midsection, and almost tried to fold into herself was startling. He was used to the confidence, the way she held herself with professionalism or at least easiness. Now, she held herself like a scared child, and it almost made him feel sorry for her.  _Almost_. Because he wasn't sure if it was in reaction to what had happened to her or in preparation for the conversation they were about to have.

"Hi." she greeted him with a small smile. Then almost like she could tell what he was thinking about her, she rolled her shoulders back and pulled herself up a bit more. Her arms stayed wrapped around her midsection, but didn't have as tight a grip as they once did. He responded with a slight nod, then stepped off the porch, figuring she knew to follow.

Besides the obvious way she held herself, Steve used the beginning of their walk to try to figure out any other noticeable differences or similarities between the woman next to him and the woman he loved. Right off the bat, an almost overpowering smell of cotton candy bubblegum wafted from her. He figured it must've been from her shower in the kids' bathroom, but it made him long for the familiar scent he was used to. The warm floral one from the light pink bottle of perfume she spritzed on herself that mixed with the other white floral smells that came from her shampoo. He would nuzzle his nose into her hair while she slept on top of his chest, trying to drown himself in it.

Her steps were much lighter than they used to be like she was afraid to touch the ground. The way her eyes glanced around their surroundings made him think of how he used to act whenever they were in a familiar place. Still just as sharp as ever, the look behind them was familiar - one that stemmed from war, constantly on edge and trying to take everything in at once so there would be no surprises. An overwhelming task he had learned to let go of for the sake of his mental health.

While her arms had dropped to her sides, he could see the way she was picking under her fingernails with her thumbnail. A tick she hadn't had before, but the hand closest to him still drifted his way ever so slightly, every so often, as if instinctively reaching out to hold his hand before her brain reminded her that she couldn't anymore. Though even he was resisting the urge to take her hand as well, grateful that the running pants Clint had let him borrow had pockets in them.

"Say what's in your head." she murmured after a long, long moment of silence. They had made it to the middle of the driveway by that point. He let out a slight scoff, keeping his focus on the horizon.

"You don't want to know what's in my head." he responded a little harsher than he intended to, but it was still true. Plus, he didn't like her using their phrase like she was. It reminded him of a different time. A better time. She pressed her lips together and glanced to look at him,

"I'm a big girl, Steven. I know I fucked up. I can take it." she said seriously. He stopped walking, letting out a deep sigh before turning to face her.

"You did more than fuck up, Queenie." he told her, ignoring the small look of hurt that flashed across her face. She was giving him an opportunity to finally get everything off his chest. And he wasn't about to hold back, "You disappeared! Left without so much as a goodbye!"

"I left -"

"The letter?" he cut her off abruptly, "Did you  _really_ think that a letter would make up for it all?"

"No - well, I mean, I just thought -" she stammered through an excuse, but he didn't let her get any further.

"That's just it, Q, you  _didn't_  think! Or if you did, it was about yourself! You didn't even think about how it would affect me or how I would react, you just did what was easiest for you!" he was yelling now, but he didn't care anymore. She needed to hear it. Get it through her rather thick skull that what she did was wrong and hear how it affected him.

"You think it was easy for me?!" she cried out, voice breaking a bit, "You think it was easy to leave you like that?!"

"Sure seemed like it!" he yelled back, stepping up closer and he half expected her to step back, but she held her ground, "You were missing for over a year, Q! No one could find you! Hell, there were times I thought you were dead!" he admitted. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips, eyes locked on his, even though her stature faltered just slightly, but enough to let him know he got to her.

"Got pretty close to being so." she mumbled quietly, but he ignored her and the small stab of pain at the reminder of who had her in their hands and what they did to her. That was a conversation for another time. Her self-pity party was not going to get in the way of him finally being able to say everything he had only dreamed about. God, it felt so good.

"And to do what!?" he continued, voice still at yelling level. Thank God they were far enough away from the house. Tony's comment about Steve not having a dark side rang in the back of his head; Q was seeing at least a different side of him. "What the  _fuck_  was so important or secret or whatever the fuck that you couldn't include me!?"

"I - I…." she trailed off, having the choice to tell him, but not wanting to because she still wasn't sure if it was good idea or not. The Bucky who found her was way different than the one she found on the riverbank, so who even knew who he was now months later.

"And then you just come back here!? And expect everything to be okay!?" he talked over her with a wide, angry gesture to the area around them, "Thinking that since I love you, it means I automatically forgive you and forget all the pain you caused?" his heart was  _pounding_  in his chest. Despite the situation, it was almost exhilarating to let go like this. His adrenaline was pumping, meaning he was very much in fight-mode.

"Of course not!" she snapped out, raising her voice to his level, not holding back on defending herself, "I'm not a teenager in some young adult rom-com." she glared at him, "I'm  _very_  much aware that I fucked up. That I lost your trust and your love." she stared at him for a long moment, features softening ever so slightly, "But I'm want to make it better. I  _have_  to." he could ask why, he knew that, but he didn't want to. Not because he didn't want to know, but because there was something else she needed to know:

"I don't know how you can." he responded seriously, lifting his chin as if to make a point. It was true. Too much damage had been done. She took in a breath, nodding a bit, "Or at least, it's going to take a  _long_  time." he rephrased, not wanting there to be zero hope for forgiveness. Because he did want to forgive her. He just couldn't. Not yet. Not until he knew everything and he was certain they hadn't even made a dent in any of the secrets or the reasoning behind her leaving. A small look of hope appeared on her face but she quickly replaced it, not wanting him to see if even he had, "And you're right. I don't trust you anymore." he added as a final gut punch. Her face fell hard and fast, just as he ended up doing when he fell in love with her. But she pulled herself up and accepted it, eyes widening slightly as she realized something,

"But you still love me." she whispered and it didn't sound like a question, but still Steve found himself answering it like it was. He glanced off to the side, down to the homestead where the farm and the house was. Something he once wanted with someone he loved. With Q.

"I do." he answered, almost sounding disappointed in admitting that despite it all, he still loved her. He hated what she did and was  _so_  hurt by it, but he still cared for her wellbeing and wanted her to be happy and okay. "But it doesn't outweigh what you did." she rolled her lips in and nodded once.

"I understand." she gave him a small, tight smile, "Anything else you want to say?" he scoffed, rolling his eyes a bit.

"Plenty of things." he raised his eyebrows. Her smile faltered and she let her weight fall onto her left foot, suddenly looking nervous that he was going to start yelling again. He wanted to. God, he really wanted to. Instead, he took in a deep breath, "Can you tell me why yet?" he asked again, but a bit calmer this time, "Or if you've found whatever it was you went looking for?" leaving off the  _and can come back home_  part of the question. She paused for a moment but it was long enough for him to know the answer, "Fuck, Q." he breathed out before she had a chance to explain herself. He let his head drop to his chest and scuffed his shoe against the dirt road, "I hate this. I hate this so much."

"I'm sorry." she responded quietly. He picked his head up, meeting her eyes.

"For what? Cause the list is  _long_ , Q." he reminded her. A small, almost embarrassed smile crossed her features.

"I know." she winced a bit, then rolled her lips in before taking in a breath, "Where do you want me to start?" she asked, truly making an effort to start apologizing for what she had done. At least verbally. The other types of apologies could come later. He thought for a moment, looking down the road before returning his gaze to Q.

"I don't even know, Q." he sighed, "I don't even know if I'm sure you mean it. Since you're most likely leaving again after you get whatever you came for." she pressed her lips together then nodded, knowing he was right.

"Then consider this a blanket apology." she gave him a small smile, "To hold you over for now." he scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Gee, thanks." While he knew she was making a quasi-joke it still stung. He deserved a real apology. Both of them knew that. There was just too much other stuff happening that took precedence. At least he was able to say some of what he was holding back. And he didn't feel the need to yell anymore. All other conversations about it could at least start civil.

That had to mean something, right?

* * *

_A/N: Please don't yell at me for this being a shorter chapter lol I just wanted to get one out before I left for the week! I don't think I'll be back in time to update next weekend so hopefully this holds you over until then (even with how short it is). Also with it being a Fight, it didn't really feel right to put anything else in lol_

_SPEAKING OF! I hope this panned out how you guys hoped it would! Obviously, there's a LOT for them to still discuss (and yell about) but for now...they got the first one out of the way which is always the hardest haha PLEASE let me know your thoughts! I love reading all of your reviews so please don't hold back!_

_Again, I'm sorry about the short chapter but I hope you enjoyed it still! LOVE YOU ALL! TYSM FOR YOUR CONTINUED SUPPORT!_


	69. blanket of awkwardness

The walk back to the homestead was a quiet one. Not because there wasn't anything to say - there were so many things for either of them to say, but because both just wanted to appreciate each other's presence again. Have a moment or two where they forgot about what had happened over the year and what had brought them together again. Of course there was still a cloud of tension and awkwardness lingering over them. That wouldn't go away for a long time, but it wasn't as big as it first was.

Steve walked in front of her instead of next to her. Just a few steps ahead of her but enough for her to notice. It was on purpose. It had to be. But to either stop her or him from falling back into old patterns, she didn't know. Though she was grateful for the nice view of his ass. She had missed that ass.  _He had been working out a lot over the year._

Thankfully, being behind him not only gave her a great view of his ass, but also allowed her to turn over what they had talked about. Or rather yelled about. Nothing really came out after the initial points he wanted to get off his chest. And while it hurt to hear him confirm some of the things she had thought, she took his feelings into consideration as he yelled at her. She knew he was not only upset with her but also extremely hurt. She wasn't denying that she was at fault for that and needed to deal with the consequences.

There was an easy fix for this. A conversation she could have with him about what  _exactly_ she had been doing and why she had been doing it. But she didn't want to tell him yet. Not until she was sure and not until she knew it wouldn't hurt him. At least not as much as everything else she had done had hurt him. She knew she was being selfish.

That was just one of many conversations they needed to have. One of the bigger ones, yes, but there was also the one regarding her time spent under the hands of Hydra. Just by the way he looked at her, she could tell he knew what happened to her. Maybe not  _everything_ but certainly the bigger stuff. It didn't surprise her that much. What she had gone through caused a very physical change to go hand in hand with the mental one. Though she was a little surprised that he seemed to know almost  _specifics_. Like how his eyes strayed up from her eyes to the temples of her head where they had attached the electrodes for the electroshock therapy almost like he knew what had been placed there. Or how he would absentmindedly rub at his wrists like he was aware of the scarring on her skin and wanted to massage it like he had with her bullet wound. He knew, which made another brick of emotions place itself on the ever growing wall that was being built atop her shoulders. Nerves or guilt or fear or empathy, she wasn't so sure. She just loathed the moment they had to have  _that_  conversation as well.

But at least the first one was out of the way. That was the worst one. He had gotten a chance to say (yell) what he wanted to and she let him. And while she should be used to people yelling at her and being disappointed in her - i.e. her family plus her first few years at the SHIELD Academy, she never did like to be on the receiving side of yelling. Especially when it came from someone she loved. But Steve was allowed to be angry and upset and frustrated and sad and she was supposed to stand there and take it. That was her role now. Q could defend herself a little, but he was in the right this time. Both of them knew that. She had a hard road ahead of her, but she was going to try her damndest to make up for everything she had done to him. Them. If anything, her time away from him made her acutely aware of how much she wanted him in her life. Could she live without him? Sure. But she didn't want to. There was a difference. And, at one point, a time where she had that choice. She didn't anymore. She had to work for it, prove it. But there were still a few things she had to take care of first.

As the two walked closer to the house, a pair was crossing over from the farmhouse. Last she had seen, Tony had gone in there alone, but now there was someone else with him. His knee length leather jacket billowed out slightly in the soft wind, a sure giveaway as to who it was - even despite the eye patch he donned.

"Agent Proctor," he greeted her first as the four of them met up in front of Clint's house, "Glad to see you were able to join us from your mission." he covered for her, weirdly, surprisingly. She remembered that he had approached Steve about hunting down the rest of the Hydra operatives that hadn't gone down with the ship(s), but he had declined. Fury had never offered her the opportunity, instead sending her straight to New York.  _Figuring she would follow Steve wherever he went._  But his lie was a little too late. She glanced at Steve out of the corner of her eye, seeing how his jaw clenched at the lie, hating how he was still being lied to. His posture straightened up, hands settling on his hips while he faced off with Fury and Tony.

"I thought we were finished with the lies, Nick." Steve answered curtly. Fury glanced at him with a slightly raised eyebrow before glancing back to Q, who subtly shook her head.

"So guessing you two  _didn't_ kiss and make up yet?" Tony butt in, twisting the head of the screwdriver against his palm. Both Steve and Q looked over at him: Steve with an annoyed glare, Q with a blank one. "Great, then you won't mind if I steal him to talk important Avengers things which you have no involvement in, Goines." he referenced the 1995 film  _12 Monkeys_ , clearly taking another jab at her crazed looking state. She didn't respond; there was no point. Steve would do whatever he wanted to do and she had no say in any of it. She had lost that right - along with a lot of other rights, when she left.

Without a glance at her, Steve followed Tony into the house. Leaving her alone with Fury, she instinctively tried to stand up a bit straighter and pushed her hair back behind her shoulders so he could see her face. Despite everything that happened, he was still someone she continually tried to impress. At the reminder, a quick memory of one of the visions the woman with the red glowy hands had made her see resurfaced. Where she had been strapped to the bed in the SHIELD Academy isolation room after acting out again. Where Fury had come in to talk to her, disappointed in her. Was he still disappointed in her? Did she ultimately fail him?

"Ukraine not treating you as well as you hoped, huh, Proctor?" he asked after a moment, giving way to the fact that he had known where she had been the entire time.

"I'm sorry?" she blinked, a bit thrown off by the revelation. Her neurons started to rapid fire, trying to come up with all the different ways that could explain how he knew. Intense enough to make her wince and bring her hand up to rub at her forehead.

"Don't worry, Agent. Your secret is safe with me." Fury brushed off her confusion rather easily, "In fact, you've been quite a help in finding some of those rats." he referenced the offer he gave Steve over a year prior. There was a pause before he continued, "Though I am sorry about what happened to you in Sokovia, Q. I'm sure that must've been difficult to go through." his voice took on a tone of concern and worry. Something she had never heard from him. She tried to give him a strong smile, but it fell flat and she instead found herself absentmindedly picking at her arm.

"Well, don't worry, Director. All of your SHIELD secrets are still safe with me. I did have training for a situation like that after all." she put on a semi-brave face, trying to keep her tone light but Fury's serious expression never left his face.

"I could give less of a damn about that, Proctor. That's not what concerns me. What concerns me is what the hell happened to you and what the hell you've been doing this past year." she fidgeted a bit, eyes glancing away from his face and over to the porch. There was a hole in the planks of the railing -  _Cooper had tried a skateboard trick that went wrong._

"I thought I was doing the right thing." she mumbled out, having come to the realization that she wasn't a long time ago. He scoffed, as if he agreed that she hadn't done the right thing. Good to know he supported that statement.

"And look how well that worked out for you." he pointed out, hands slipping into his pants' pockets. She winced at his bluntness. But it was true so she couldn't really argue. Instead, she took in a deep breath and pushed her hands through her hair, keeping them atop her head for a moment.

"I don't know how to fix it." she admitted, finally turning to him for advice as she had countless times before. Except this time was different. It wasn't asking what he thought of her approach on a mark or if he could sign off on her mission summary. This was more personal. Before, she never would've done something like this, but SHIELD was no longer which meant he was no longer her boss. Just a mentor.

"Bullshit." he called her out, making her glance back at him, "I know how that head of yours works, Q. I bet you've got fifteen different scenarios goin' on in there." he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, "Guess it's just about picking the right one."

"How do I know which is the right one?" she asked, arms dropping to her sides as he shrugged,

"It's whichever one you choose." he responded as if it were that simple. She sighed, slumping down a bit and ignoring his slight chuckle, "Not everything is black and white, Proctor. Can't figure it out with graphs and charts. And you certainly can't keep running away from it."

"I'm aware." she mumbled out, hating how she had to keep learning the same lesson over and over again. It sucked. But it made her human, right? Something she certainly needed a reminder of after being trapped in the Hydra facility.

"Unfortunately, we also have bigger problems to deal with now." he shifted his weight once again and let out a slightly tired sigh. It reminded her that Fury was actually here. In front of her. And she still didn't know why. If anything, what he said only confirmed that it had nothing to do with her.

"I figured as much." she grimaced a bit at the realization that once again their world was in danger. Would that ever end? Or were they meant to live in a constant state of anxiety about the next looming threat. Then she nodded toward the house, "Dawson found some sort of virus in his ECHOnet." she explained to him why she was there and who she had brought along with her, "Something about tracing the source back to Stark?" she let her voice go up a bit, making her statement into a question since she wasn't very confident in repeating the technological mumbo jumbo Dawson had thrown at her earlier.

"Sounds about right." Fury sighed as he took his hands out of his pockets to place them on his hips, "Stark built a program. Ultron. Tasked to defend the world from whatever else is up there." he gestured to the sky above them, referencing the other worlds that so obviously lingered beyond their own Earth. He stared at the sky for a moment longer than most would.  _Like he had a memory from up there. In space._  "Except it took matters into its own hands. Set itself free and is now wreaking havoc through every available internet database. Intent on destroying the world."

"Fantastic." she deadpanned, already very much over whatever the hell kind of AI Tony had built. Artificial Intelligence freaked her out. And she couldn't really understand it. She knew Dawson had tinkered in the world himself, but his interests pulled him more toward the world of quantum physics and time manipulation. Something she had overheard him and Nat casually discussing in his lab at SHIELD one day - as casually as two could talk about quantum physics, just thinking about the phrase made her brain hurt, "So what do we do about it?"

Instead of answering her verbally, he just turned and walked away from her. Heading off to the house, she followed after him. She caught up to him and fell into step beside him, the sun setting behind them as they went.

"What are you doing here anyway, Fury?" she asked a question that was probably not only on her mind alone. "SHIELD doesn't exist anymore and -"

"And who's fault is that?" he cut her off and met her unamused look with a glance.

"We both had a hand in that, Nick." she reminded him before taking in a breath and continuing, "And it doesn't really seem like your problem."

"Well maybe I don't want the world to be destroyed by some rogue AI program." he quipped out, climbing up the stairs to the house. She followed along, entering back inside with him and shutting the door behind her.

Tony had managed to gather everyone on the first floor of the house - though she briefly wondered where Thor was since she knew he was an Avenger too. Everyone was mainly in the kitchen area; Clint was pulling something out of the oven while Steve was helping Laura place food on an already set table. Nat and Dawson were on opposite sides of the table, diagonal from each other and both stealing glances at each other when the other wasn't looking.

Though at Q's entrance, Nat's eyes flicked over to her instead. Her expression remained stoic and unflinching though by the way her fingers fiddled with the placemat under her plate, Q knew she was aware of the Hydra situation. It made sense that Steve would share that with her; the two probably got closer with the shared trauma of their significant others leaving them.

Tony was getting glasses from a cabinet above the counter while Bruce was carrying over a pitcher of sweet tea to set next to the beers already on the table. Clearly, a family dinner was happening. She just wasn't sure if she was allowed to sit at the table or not. Then, Fury put a hand on the middle of her back, gently pushing her toward the table and silently telling her to take a seat. Better to not make waves by calling more unwanted attention to herself. She already had enough to begin with.

"That's my seat!" a loud, yet little voice shouted, which of course got everyone's attention. Q immediately got out of the chair she had sat in, face heating up in embarrassment as Lila tugged her away from the chair, "You can't sit there." she said rather matter of factly. Q tried not to react to the touch, even though every atom in her body was screaming for her to toss the kid off of her and go wash her skin ten times over.

"I'm...I didn't know." she tried to explain herself, glancing around the room for help. No one offered her any immediate help and Lila couldn't care less, continuing to pull her away from the offending chair. Thankfully, Laura stepped in before her embarrassment rose any further.

"It's alright." she gave her a reassuring smile, reaching to grab her kid from where she was tightly gripping Q's arm. Or as tightly as a child could, "Lila, honey, we're gonna let Agent Proctor sit there tonight, okay?" she didn't quite ask, nor tell her while picking her up and balancing her on one hip, "I'm sure Auntie Nat will let you sit with her…" she glanced over to Nat, who perked up at the title that was so rarely used.

"Only if you paint me something pretty after supper." Nat responded with a knowing smile. A clear inside joke between the younger and elder. Lila bobbed her head in a nod and Laura crossed over the room to hand her over to Nat. Q watched as Lila comfortably settled onto Nat's lap and how weirdly natural Nat looked with a small child in her arms. Like she was made for it. A sharp pain pricked her heart at the reminder of the files she had read on Nat before getting to know her personally, what the Red Room's graduation ceremony was like.  _No distractions._

Not being able to linger on it for long because everyone else started to sit around the table, Q let her focus shift to the present. Noticing how Steve took a seat on Nat's side of the table, down at the other end of the table and away from Q. He glanced at her and gave her a slight nod, but it did nothing to loosen the knot in her stomach at the fact that he still wanted to be as far away from her as possible.

Maybe she was reading too much into it, but it seemed like battle lines were being drawn. The battle being Steve and Nat against Q and Dawson. And the other Avengers were choosing their sides, instinctively or not. Clint settled on the opposite side of Nat with Laura next to him (Cooper was off playing video games, seemingly very uninterested in his dad's superhero friends) and Tony at the head of the table. Next to Q was Bruce, but she was sure he was unaware of the relationship drama that was brewing. Or at least knew the full story. And Fury sat at the other end of the table like a father surveying his kids. Impartial to any of the drama.

"Don't just stare at each other, eat! Dig in!" Laura broke the semi-tense silence, ever playing the Switzerland of the war. Q could understand her approach; it was already awkward enough having a team of superheroes in your house, no need for more drama.

In her life, Q had sat through a lot of different types of dinners. There were the tense ones that happened when she came home late, strung out on whatever type of drug Spencer had her test for product. There were the angry ones that consisted of her and her father getting into a yelling match across the table from each other while her mother sat passively by and commented on how she could do something different with the chicken. The ones that made her cry afterward, the ones with her grandmother where she laughed the most, and the ones where she refused to eat anything in protest.

Though the worst ones were always the awkward ones, the ones where everyone knew something was going on but no one knew how to start the conversation without making it even more awkward or even bringing up the source of the awkwardness. It was different from the tense dinners she had before; those had a heavier feeling than the coat of awkwardness that draped the table right then and there.

Usually a quiet table meant that the food was good - which it was, but there was still that blanket of awkwardness wrapping around them. Laura, bless her heart, tried eagerly to dissolve the discomfort by detailing what was in each dish and asking if anyone needed anything else while the bowls and serving plates were passed around. When the dishes got to Q, she took an appropriate amount of food while Dawson continued to load his plate up - clearly unsure when they were going to have another meal like they were. Neither one of them were very good cooks and relied a lot on Ukrainian takeout. If the situation were any different, Q would probably do the same, but she was trying to be polite.

A home cooked meal was a home cooked meal even despite the mood of the table. And it seemed she and Dawson weren't the only ones itching for it. The other Avengers took what they wanted from the serving platters and soon forks and knives were scraping against plates.  _The plates had come from a flea market._ For the most part, she kept her eyes on her own plate and didn't contribute to whatever trite conversation was happening, but couldn't help but glance up and around the table every so often.

Noticing how Bruce separated his food into defined sections on his plate to make sure they wouldn't touch:  _something he can control after not being able to control the Hulk._ Eyes flicking over to Fury and watching him glance over each of the adults sitting at the table:  _the Director coming out of him even though he had no real control over any of them anymore_. When Tony's arm bumped up against hers and sent a buzz through her nervous system:  _spread out to take up as much space as possible because it shows he's relaxed and casual even despite what happened._ Nat letting Lila feed her pieces of food with a warm smile that didn't quite reach up to her eyes:  _being reminded of the family she thinks can never have._ A ting of a fork against a ring made her glance to Clint who was deftly twirling his fork between his fingers with his eyes trained on Dawson:  _a testament and a warning to his skillset - how easily he could kill Dawson with just the fork._ And finally Steve, meeting his eyes and being a bit surprised by how he was looking at her:  _with longing, for a quiet life like the Bartons._ Though his eyes immediately moved away from hers as soon as she relaxed into the way she was being held in his gaze.

"You've barely touched your food, Q." Laura pointed out, accidentally calling everyone's attention to her. Then making her realize that she had just been moving food around her plate, much like she did during previous awkward dinners she was forced into, "Is everything okay?" a flash of worry briefly appeared on her face, as if she was nervous that Q didn't like her food. That certainly wasn't the case at all.

"Oh, yeah, of course. It's delicious, Laura." she went to assure the woman, shifting in her chair and quickly stabbing a couple of the potatoes with her fork. Laura watched her chew her bite and gave her a small smile and nod to match, then glanced around at the remaining dishes on the table,

"Do you want any salad?" she offered with a raise of her eyebrows.

"No, thank you." she declined the offer with a grateful smile, mouthing opening a bit to explain her aversion to vegetables, but Nat beat her to it.

"Q tends to avoid anything good for her...at all costs." she said it so simply and lightly that to anyone not aware of what had been going on for the past year would have thought it was a joke. But Q knew better. And a quick look to Nat confirmed that she wasn't talking  _just_  talking about salads. "Does whatever it takes to get as far away from it as possible, don't you, Q?" Nat continued to lay onto her, pairing it with a smirk that was only for show. Her eyes betrayed her first, with a coldness, a hardness to them that made the fear Q had toward her, before she had gotten to know her, creep back in.

"Something like that." she responded, swallowing heavily. Suddenly, she had found her place at the dinner table.

A familiar place, the role she took countless times at various family dinners: the victim. And while sometimes she didn't deserve it, this time she did. She had to sit and take it - the thinly veiled criticism and "jokes" that were directed at her. Reminiscent of the Thanksgiving dinner she had shared with her family and Steve over a year ago. Only this time, Steve wasn't coming to her defense. Instead he just watched on and let Nat say her piece.

But hell, she had survived Hydra torture. She could make it through the rest of dinner.

* * *

_A/N: Whew! Managed to get home and get my ass in gear in time to get a chapter out so I could keep to the posting schedule! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Yay for awkward fam dinners! Please don't hesitate to let me know your thoughts and reactions. I love reading all of your reviews. Thank you again for the countless support and whatnot. I love you all!_


	70. limited time

"So stand. Outwit the platinum bastard." Fury finished his rather in character pep talk. Dinner had finished and Laura had herded the kids to the den so the Avengers could have a proper discussion about Ultron. At the word  _bastard_ , a smirk came over Nat's face and her eyes slid over to Steve.

"Steve doesn't like that kind of talk." she teased. He pushed off the doorway he had been leaning against, but kept his arms crossed,

"You know what, Romanoff?" he raised his eyebrows at his friend, the threat otherwise empty as Nat tried not to laugh.

"Gonna make him put a dollar in the jar, Rogers?" Tony chimed in from where he was throwing darts with Clint while also listening to what Fury had been saying. Steve heaved a sigh and glanced over to him before remembering that Q was in the room. He bit his tongue on the snarky reply that was ready to go, instead glancing to one of the corners in the kitchen area where Q had been had been curled up in a random chair. He was curious to see her reaction to everyone now knowing their inside joke. Except her chair was empty.

Doing a quick scan of the room and only half listening to the plan to take down Ultron, Steve tried to place Q. But it was clear that she had left. Only to where, he didn't know. He let his arms drop to his sides as he glanced over his shoulder, hoping she was somewhere behind him. She wasn't. His immediate thought was that she had left again, gone back to wherever it was she had come from without saying goodbye again. Though another, logical part of his brain reminded him that Dawson was still there. Sitting diagonally across the table from Nat and not offering any input or snarky comments himself - out of character, but understandable considering the circumstances. But Q wouldn't leave without her best friend.

He leaned back a bit, noticing that the porch light was on, which it hadn't been before. Maybe she had gone out there. He quietly stepped away from the team meeting that was happening and slipped out the front door without a sound.

"Hey." he greeted her after shutting the door behind him. She was curled up on the porch swing, knees against her chest, looking out across the front yard at nothing. There was an empty beer bottle on the railing and another one in her hand. At the sound of his voice, she turned her head and looked over at him.

"Hi." she responded, voice still sounding as small as it had when she first arrived. It was a weird thing to hear; she always had a strong voice. Was always confident in what she was saying and didn't shy away from it. Now, it was like she was nervous as to how whatever she said would be received.

"Thought you left again." he slipped his hands in his pockets while frankly admitting why he had come outside. Even in the dim porch light, he could see her cheeks flush red with slight embarrassment.

"Yeah, no," she ducked her head down a bit, leaning forward to set the beer bottle down next to the empty one. The motion was enough to make the porch swing sway slightly, "I just, uh, had to step away for a second. Too many things going on." she motioned to her head as if that explained everything. It both did and it didn't.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked out of instinct, then winced. He wasn't supposed to be doing that. Offering her help. Not after everything she had put him through. Still, she gave him an almost watery smile and then shook her head.

"No, no…" she trailed off, "This is something I have to deal with on my own." He bit his tongue on the sarcastic comment that was ready to be fired. Apparently there was a lot she had to do on her own. Dealing with the side effects of Hydra torture shouldn't be one of them and yet…

There was a moment of silence before he gestured to the empty space next to her on the swing,

"Mind if I…" he trailed off, leaving the question open ended and giving her an out. But she quickly shook her head and somehow managed to move over even more to give him more than enough space to sit. Which he did, settling down next to her and letting the swing gently start to rock with the newfound weight on it.

"You don't have to deal with it alone, Q." he said softly after another long moment of silence. She looked over at him from where she had been staring at a random spot on her knee. He kept his gaze locked on the porch floorboards, afraid he might lose his nerve if he met her eyes, "I saw what happened to you in the…" he swallowed tightly, having to finally speak it out loud, "Hydra facility."

"I know." she responded quietly, "I can see it in your eyes." he let himself finally meet her gaze, noticing how softly, how sadly even, she was looking at him. Not in pity though, just general sadness, "I just can't bear to hurt you anymore by telling you details."

"You're hurting me by  _not_  telling me." he argued back, the knot in his stomach proving it was true. He hated having to make up his own theories about what they did to her and why they did it. She stared at him, almost like she was calculating the different outcomes in her head. Trying to figure out what would happen if she told him and how he would react. "Just tell me what happened." he prompted her, almost pleadingly. She stared at him for a moment longer before looking away abruptly and taking in a deep, sharp breath.

"They - they drugged me. Took out my comms and tracker so Dawson couldn't find me I - I was all alone in there." she started to fiddle with her fingers, staring off into space as she remembered what happened to her while she was strapped to that chair, "Then they started to...to  _do_  things to me." her brow furrowed slightly as she continued, "Strapped me down, pumped me full of some sort of blue liquid, then started to...to run tests I guess. See what my body could handle." he glanced down at her wrists, noticing the angry, bluish purple lines that were wrapped around like bracelets she could never take off, "I thought it was just general SHIELD v. Hydra torture, you know?" she glanced over to him with tears in her eyes, "Some sort of sick game to try and get information out of me, but...now, I think it was something deeper." A lump started to form in the back of his throat as he thought back to the video footage he had seen of the various torture she had undergone at the hands of Hydra. None of that looked like it was normal torture - not that he was in any way, shape or form aware what "normal torture" consisted of. She took in a deep breath, like she was preparing to drop a bomb on him, which she certainly did a moment later, "Dawson thinks that they injected me with some form of the super soldier serum." she glanced at him quickly, trying to steal a look at his reaction but not wanting to focus on it, "A low dosage." she continued with a gesture of her hands, "But it makes sense." she followed up.

"How in holy hell does it make sense?" he asked thickly. His entire world was crashing down around him even more than it had the first time when she had left him. Her words made his brain both fizzle out and jump into overdrive. Eyes flicking around her frame, he tried to pinpoint clear examples of the effects of the serum. It had to be the same serum that had made him become Captain America, right? So it had to have the same effects...right?

And yet, there were no signs of intense muscle gain, or a height difference between her before and her after. He couldn't tell if she could suddenly lift things that weren't easy for her to lift before or if she could run faster than she could because they were sitting on the porch swing. Her eyes were a bit sharper than they used to be, but maybe that was because of the situation they were in. She seemed to have a nervous tick now - playing with her fingers, but that could be because she was nervous, not because of the need to focus like he had.

"Because we did tests, Steve." she tilted her head at him, lower lip trembling as she thought back to all the tests she and Dawson had run over the few months after got back to the beach house, "It affected me differently than it did you. I didn't get the muscles or the speed or transform into some sort of god." he tensed at the slight dig at his former appearance pre-serum. "My head just got all fucked up." her voice broke on the last part of her sentence and she quickly moved her hand to wipe under her eyes, "It's going a mile a minute. Like a fucking dam broke. Analyzing  _everything_ , noticing  _everything_." her voice was strained when she emphasized the  _everything_ 's "God it's like no matter how hard I try - and I  _try_. I try so  _fucking hard_. But the noise, the - the static, inside my head will not quiet. I can't take it anymore, Steve. I can't." she shook her head, tears freely spilling now, "They - they took me and they played with brain and then put it back in my head and now - now I have to live with it." she was visibly shaking now. Steve had never seen her like this before and it was more scary than sad. It was terrifying to see such a strong woman act like this. His heart was breaking even more than it had when she left him, while a thick slab of guilt settled onto his shoulders. And also made him extremely angry. He hated it. Hated what they did to her, how they broke her down and rebuilt her up but had fucked with too many of the pieces so they just started jamming them together until she was somewhat whole again. "I don't think I can live with it, Steve." she finally, softly admitted, voice wavering.

For about maybe the second or third time in his life, Steve was at a loss for words. He had no idea what to say or even if there  _was_  a right thing to say. A part of him wondered if he should even be comforting her despite what she did. He wanted to be mad at her, yell at her for being so stupid to do something that would get her in that sort of situation. But at the end of the day, it wasn't her fault. It was Hydra. Hydra did this to her. So of course he should be comforting her.

After everything, he still cared about her and  _hated_ seeing her in this kind of pain. It was a new kind of pain. Pain inflicted by the same monsters who took and tortured someone else he cared about, twisting him into the weapon they wanted. They had tried to do the same with Q. God, he really was an unlucky son of a bitch, wasn't he? What with Hydra taking two of the most important people in his life and breaking them into a tiny million little pieces all so they could use and abuse them before sending them back out in the world. He couldn't save Bucky or comfort him after everything that happened on the Potomac, but he could sure as hell do it for Q.

Still, he wracked his brain for some sort of comforting statement, but nothing seemed to do the job. He couldn't tell her everything was going to be okay because how could he possibly know that? He didn't want to promise that he would help her through it because at the end of the day, she was still leaving again. She had to, he knew this from the moment she stepped onto the homestead. They had limited time.

So he settled for reaching over and taking her hand in his. She wasn't looking at him, but immediately tensed at the motion, knowing it was coming yet still hating how her body reacted to the simple gesture. Like a tiny little shocks of electricity shot up her hand from where his skin touched hers. Squeezing his hand tightly, she tried not to focus on the slight thrill she got from the touch, but instead on the comforting action. The most he could do without saying anything.

"But you are." he pointed out, the words sounding lamer than they had in his head. She took in a deep, shaky breath, then nodded.

"I am." she tried to give him a strong smile but it fell flat. They shared eye contact for a long moment before she looked away first. That was the first time she ever looked away first.

"How did you escape?" he asked, slightly changing the subject. The slab of guilt on his shoulders became heavier, knowing that if he was just a half a second sooner, he could've gotten her out of a place she never should've been in in the first place. His question made her turn to face him and even through her watery eyes, she managed a scoff and an eye roll - the first thing he had seen on her that reminded him of the Q he had fell in love with.

"Fucking Spencer." Steve's eyebrows rose at the mention of her ex-boyfriend. The one who caused her to be thrown in jail. He didn't know a lot about the ex, but enough to know that he hated him and what he did to Q.

"Well...that's ironic." he made a face, making Q give a small laugh.

"That's exactly what Dawson said." she gave him a semi-amused smile that just looked out of place on her otherwise tear stained face. Still, he humored her and returned the smile as hers faded, "Spence was working for Hydra." she continued, all traces of the small joke they had shared gone, "Said something about having a partnership with them." her brow furrowed as she tried to remember his exact words. Then she let out a heavy sigh, "Doesn't surprise me, honestly." It didn't surprise Steve either, but he did wonder what happened during the time she had spent with him. Weirdly, a flare of jealousy lit up in the center of his sternum as he thought about her being with her ex-boyfriend. Why was he jealous? After all wasn't like he and Q were still together, but he didn't like the idea of her being with him.

"Nothing happened." she eyed him like she could tell what was going on inside his head. After all, there was once a time where she could. Cheeks burning a bit, he dropped his gaze down and away from her, but she didn't seem angry or upset with him, "He's dead now too, so you don't need to worry about him coming back or whatever." she said it so casually that it made his eyes flick over to hers, mouth opening slightly to ask a question she immediately answered, "I didn't kill him." her eyes were serious, enough to let him know that she was telling the truth, "But after...I got out of there. Ran into Sam." she tilted her head to the side, indicating that they were about all caught up, "And I assume he told you." he nodded in response, making her sigh, "Can't blame him, I guess." she looked away from him and out across the homestead.

"He cares about you just as much as I do, Q." Steve reminded her. A small smile peeked out on her features as she nodded a bit,

"So not much then, huh?" she had to tease, lighten the mood a bit. He gave her an unamused look which she matched with an innocent one, "I'm surprised he's not here." she glanced over her shoulder to the house where the meeting was finishing up. Another subject change.

"Yeah, yeah, he's…" Steve trailed off, trying to come up with an excuse-slash-explanation without having to get into how they were searching for Bucky. He was allowed to have some secrets too, "not technically an Avenger yet…" she raised her chin at him, obviously not believing him.

"Uh-huh, sure…" she trailed off, corners of her lips twitching with a grin, "Maybe one day."

"Probably one day." he agreed with a nod. She let out an amused scoff and rolled her eyes.

"Did you guys figure out what you're gonna do about Ultron?" she asked, switching gears and getting the focus off of herself. She had said enough. They had the Hydra conversation. At least part of it and it was hard enough to do so. She couldn't bear to talk about any of the other things that had happened to her there (the visions she had seen) or what she was doing in the Ukraine (still searching for Bucky and other answers).

"I think they're in planning mode now." he answered with a glance back into the house. At his answer, she pulled her hand away. The motion created a sudden coldness and emptiness in the space where her hand used to be.

"You should probably get back in there then, huh? Make sure you know what they're doing." he met her eyes. The proper response was to agree with her. She had given him an out. Though he didn't move; when he would go back into the house their limited time would become shorter. One of them would have to leave first. He didn't want that yet. Not after everything she just told him and the clear state of pain she was in. More so than he originally thought.

"I think they can manage without me for a second." he responded, surprising her. Out of all the outcomes her brain offered her, that one was the lowest on the list. She tried to hide her smile, ducking her head down and reaching out for his hand again. He let her take it, relishing in the small, almost intimate touch.

It had been a while since he had felt her skin against his. The differences were clear. Skin colder than it used to be, her fingers were a lot more bony. There was a roughness to her palm like she had forgotten to moisturize. The marks around her fingernails had to be from something they did when she was strapped to that chair. He didn't want to think about it.

Sitting there together, the quiet allowed him to think about the what if's of life. What if he had saved her from the facility? What if he found her even before then - she wouldn't be struggling like she was right then. What if they had a simple, quiet life like this? Could they ever have something like that? Probably not.

The screen door suddenly clattered open, effectively ruining whatever small moment of normalcy that was going on between the two of them. Both of them looked over to see Dawson step out onto the porch, eyes already flicking in between the two of them. If he noticed the hand holding, he didn't say anything. His eyes settled on Steve and he motioned his thumb over his shoulder,

"They need you inside." he told them, effectively explaining why he had come outside. This time it was Steve who took his hand away from Q's. She flexed her fingers out and in, adjusting to the feeling of her hand without his.

Getting up from the porch swing, he stepped over to Dawson. He pulled himself to his full height, towering over him with his Serious Captain Expression on his face. Dawson, much to his credit, stood his ground. He tilted his chin up a bit so he could meet Steve's eyes and the two of them had a tense stare off. Dawson was dying to say something, anything - Q could see it in his eyes, but he kept quiet.

It was a tense moment between two ex-probably-best-friends. As much as he blamed Q for what she did and how she hurt him, Steve was also pretty angry with Dawson too. After all, not only had he left Nat, but he had left Steve too. Losing a friend was just as heartbreaking as losing a romantic interest. Hell, it may have hurt even more; Steve didn't have very many friends to begin with.

Without a word, Steve stepped past him and went back into the house. As soon as the door shut behind him, Dawson relaxed. Slumping his shoulders down and letting out the breath he was holding, he stepped over to the porch swing. With a heaviness, he sat down in Steve's recently vacated spot. The swing began to gently sway with a push of his toe against the porch floor.

"You were right." he said after a moment of easy silence. A different silence than the one she shared with Steve. More comfortable. She liked her silences with Dawson; there was no pressure.

"You'll have to be more specific." she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He sighed, looking down at his hands and tracing one of the lines on his palm with his finger.

"About coming here." he paused, shoulders hunched a bit as if he was carrying some sort of weight. It was a bit off putting. For as long as she knew him, he always carried himself like he was above it all. Never being affected by anything - or at least pretending he wasn't, "We shouldn't have come. This sucks." he blew out a breath, looking out across the homestead before sitting back and shoving his hands through his hair. She held back on her  _I told you so_ moment, even though she really did want to say it. There were only ever a few times she got to lord over him and they were so infrequent. But she knew this wasn't the time to throw it in his face.

"Did you at least get a chance to yell at Tony?" she asked, trying to lighten the mood. He scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Doesn't seem worth it anymore. And Fury already chewed him out pretty good so…" he trailed off, "They're thinking Ultron's building a body out of some vibranium he stole." he tried to put it simply, but the underlying meanings and the questions that came with it was enough to make her head pound. She winced, then shook her head, deciding not to get into the thousands of questions she had. She didn't need that extra headache that came with trying to understand it all.

"That sounds...fucking horrifying." she settled on. He grunted in agreement, then sat back on the swing, extending his legs out a bit to control the slight swinging motion that was happening. "Do they want our help?"

"If they do, they haven't asked for it." he glanced at her, "And I have a feeling they won't." he admitted. She nodded; that made sense. So much so that she tried to use it as a way to ignore the sour taste in her mouth that came with knowing that they didn't want their help. Not that they needed it, but still. She thought back to the times she was involved with all of Steve's missions while he worked for SHIELD. The planning that went into it and the recon she did. Dawson creating the tech that was needed to help take down the marks. Especially Nat's spider bites. Now, they didn't even pretend to want their help. Times had changed. For the worse.

Q's head found its way to rest on Dawson's shoulder while his arm came around to her side. The two of them sat on the porch in silence. Both mourning pasts they couldn't go back to no matter how hard they tried. Whatever reasoning they had behind coming to the homestead for had shifted with the reunions with the people they loved. The people they abandoned. One of them had been more prepared for it than the other. Both of them realized it hurt a lot more than they had previously convinced themselves. Hard conversations needed to be had, consequences had to be faced and now their time was up. Hopefully it was enough, but it most likely wasn't.

Several minutes later, the Avengers started to filter out of the house. Just by the looks of it, Q could tell they each had their separate missions. Fury exited first, giving both her and Dawson a nod before saying,

"Either of you want to help me pull off something dramatic?" Q and Dawson shared a look before Dawson answered for both of them,

"We already did something pretty dramatic today. Quota's filled." he raised his eyebrows up at their former boss. Fury eyed them for a moment before nodding and stepping off the porch without another word.

Tony stepped out next, flipping the collar of his jacket up while he glanced at the two of them. He let out a breath, saying: "Caltech, Cuckoo's Nest." referring to Dawson - and poking fun at how he didn't go to MIT unlike others, and Q respectively. Dawson glared at him, not a fan of the joke,

"At least I didn't create a killer robot, Stark." he sassed back, finally getting his chance to dig at him.

"No, you just refined a program that almost wiped out half a million people in one go." Tony tilted his head at Dawson, referencing Project Insight. He clicked his tongue against his teeth, then shook his head as he walked off.

"Dickhead." he mumbled under his breath. Q suppressed a snort.

Clint, Natasha and Steve walked out in a group. All three of them were dressed in their op suits. It had been a while since she had seen Steve in his Captain America suit and she couldn't help but give him a once over. Still as form fitting as ever.

At the sight of Nat, Dawson immediately got to his feet. He pulled down his t-shirt in an effort to straighten it out and make himself a bit more presentable. Q watched him step over to the group, only to be blocked by Clint and his rather intimidating expression. The silent exchange between the two of them was loud enough to let everyone know what was going on. Then Nat put her hand on Clint's shoulder, getting him to step to the side.

While Dawson and Nat talked quietly at one end of the porch, Steve moved over to the porch swing Q was getting up from. She ran her fingers through her hair before slipping her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. Steve kept his hands on his belt buckle - in the familiar, strong Bucky-like stance.

"You have to go, huh?" she asked the obvious with a glance over his shoulder at the other two saying their goodbyes.

"I do." he responded, nodding firmly. His eyes danced around her face for a moment. There was something else he wanted to say, she could tell. Yet he settled with, "Look after yourself." she gave him a small smile, arms coming to wrap around her midsection.

"Be safe." she told him and he matched her small smile and nod.

If they were anywhere else, any  _time_  else, this would be the part where she would lean in and give him a kiss. A reminder of what was waiting for him when he returned. But both of them knew nothing was going to be waiting for either of them after this. Q wouldn't be at the homestead when he returned and he wouldn't be coming back to her.

So that was all they said to each other. That's all they had. Time had run out.

As the quinjet took off into the sky, Laura stepped up to her. She rubbed a comforting hand against the small of Q's back. At the touch, her grip on the porch railing tightened. But after a second, she relaxed into the motion; it felt nice.

"It never gets easier." she told Q, obviously speaking from experience. Q swallowed the lump in her throat, finally beginning to understand how Steve felt when she had left him.

At least she had gotten a semi-goodbye.

* * *

_A/N: And thus, reunion over...I hope you guys enjoyed the mini reunion these characters were able to have! Please let me know all of your thoughts and comments - I love hearing from you all! Plus, it was my birthday last Wednesday so reviews would be a fantastic belated bday gift haha_

_Thank you again for reading/reviewing/following/favoriting! I appreciate you all so much!_


	71. connections

While he ignored the slight  _ting!_  that signaled his entrance into the corner store, the television on the corner of the counter got his attention. Over the lingering  _ting!_  of the bell above the door came the loud trumpet of a theme song that he had begun to learn played before a news report. Something else he knew was that the news usually wasn't playing at this hour. Something must have happened. He tried to silence the alarm that went off in his head that it was about him. There was nothing he had done in the past few days to garner this kind of attention.

From what he quickly gathered by taking in what was on the screen, it was a special news report of some kind. He was still getting used to how fast news spread, and how it seemed to be such crystal clear color. Pushing past the evergreen surprise at how technology had advanced (in another time, he would be obsessed with the advancements), he tuned into what the reporter was saying,

" _Early this morning, a local train in Seoul, South Korea, derailed off the tracks."_ the reporter shared over footage of the train, " _Caused by what seemed to be a large energy blast, reports are coming in that witnesses saw Captain America from the Avengers fighting against what witnesses are calling a robot similar to Tony Stark's Iron Man."_ he tried to work through the information she gave while continuing to watch the screen. The scene had switched to inside where the train where someone had recorded the fight. Lower quality than the footage of the train, but he wondered how they had gotten the video so fast. Again, the rate at which technology advanced could entertain him for hours if he chose to focus on it, " _Two enhanced were also reported helping Captain America. Witnesses report the woman was the one to actually_ _ **stop**_   _the train, citing that she had red energy coming from her hands. This comes mere days after the Hulk's destruction in South Africa. Some officials are calling for the Avengers to answer to both of these disasters and for stricter rules to be put in place so they be held accountable."_ The screen shifted to show a professional looking still photo of the group she was referencing. The Avengers. The photo was only on the screen for mere moments, but it was long enough for him to commit to his memory. Not that there was much there to begin with. A lot of open real estate to fill with new memories, though he longed for the ones that had been painfully vacated by others.

The news shifted away from the story about South Korea, going into more local news. He continued to watch for a moment to make sure no one had found him out before continuing down the aisle that housed his protein bars. There was no need to dally, he had spent enough time in the store as it was.

Still, even during his walk back to the apartment, he couldn't stop thinking about the picture of the group the newscaster was talking about. The Avengers. Specifically, his brain kept focusing on the man with the star on his chest, holding a shield that looked like an American flag had been laid out over it. There was a tug in his gut that he had come to recognize as a feeling that happened whenever something was familiar. Like the Hydra operative he met in the parking garage, or the woman he had saved from the other Hydra associate. Something was familiar about the man in the photo.

He waited until he was safely back in his apartment before trying to figure it out. Whenever he had before with other people or places or things, he had given himself a splitting headache. No doubt a side effect of the endless Hydra torture and then trying to yank memories from places they had been triple locked in and meant never to come out of again. Though, the headaches always made him vulnerable. If he was out in public where someone could see him...someone from Hydra, then he wouldn't be able to defend himself. He wasn't about to risk it.

Double-checking his security measures that were in place in the apartment, he retrieved the journal from under his mattress. It was filled with things he had done during the day, different things he had noticed, and what he had remembered. With each fractured memory of the past, he gained a tiny part of himself back, slowly feeling more comfortable in his skin again. More like a man, rather than the Soldier. Never the Man he was before though.

Opening the cover of the journal, his eyes landed on the picture he had clipped there. A printout that like a painting, but had been printed out on nothing but a flimsy piece of paper. He had received at the museum he went to in America. The Smithsonian. Washington, D.C. He had gone there because...well because of the man who was front and center of the printout. The tug in his gut became more pronounced at the sight of him, almost like his body was excited about the sudden connection it had made. The painted man on the printout was the same man from the television.

 _CAPTAIN AMERICA'S RETROSPECTIVE_  it proclaimed in large letters underneath the painting/picture. A guide to his past. Oh, how he longed for one of those for himself. Maybe he was making his own himself. Still, he wished someone made one for him. That would be helpful. When he had gotten the printout, there had been some sort of display that had his face on it. Or at least someone who looked like him. He wasn't sure if that was him though, maybe at one time, a long time ago. The words that were etched into the glass told a foreign story. One that seemed like something he would hear about on the news, not one he had lived. That one was more tragic than the display let on.

Circling back, he began to connect the two images. The one on the printout with the one that was displayed on the screen. The man was Captain America. He had gone to the museum to learn about him. The Smithsonian. Washington D.C. Captain America. The man he dragged from the river. His mission. No. His friend.  _Till the end of the line._

That was what the man had said to him. Captain America. Steve. Something he had said to him a long time before. Before Captain America. After a funeral. The man's mother. Captain America. Steve. Sarah. His mother. It was Steve's mother's funeral. He was there because they were friends. Brothers.  _Till the end of the line._

Though Steve was skinnier back then. Smaller. Nothing like the pictures they had in the museum. The Smithsonian. Washington D.C. Or had shown on the news. The Avengers. Captain America. The Howling Commandos. That had been their group back then. Before the museum. The Smithsonian. Before the newscast. The train accident. There was another train. In a snowy mountain range. Before. Before the Avengers. Captain America. Steve. His brother.

Brother. Family. Mother. Father. Winnifred. George. Sister. Rebecca. Younger. Butterfly hairpin. He did her hair in the mornings. Complicated curls. All dead. Right? No. The riverbank. Rebecca wearing his uniform. No, not Rebecca. He didn't know her name, but she had similar features as Rebecca. Sister. She wasn't his sister. His sister was dead. So was his parents. Orphan. Except for her. The woman on the riverbank. With Captain America. Steve. She had been looking for Steve. They were friends or something more. He wasn't sure about that. They hadn't talked. Not until he killed the man who took her. Killed someone again. But saved someone else. Had to equal out, right?

He glanced at the dresser across from the mattress he was sitting on, zeroing in on one of the closed drawers. The drawer held a device that seemed like a smaller, portable version of a phone. Oh, it was incredible how technology had advanced. The man's phone. The man from the apartment where he kept Rebecca. No, not Rebecca. The woman from the riverbank. He saved her. From the man in the apartment, who's phone he took. There were photos on it. Of Rebecca. Not Rebecca. The woman he saved. The woman in the photos on the phone device. She wasn't in the photo on the newscast. Not an Avenger. Captain America was one. An Avenger. Steve.

Steve was Captain America.

The man in the photo of the Avengers.

On the television.

On the newscast.

Which was about the train accident.

Steve was Captain America, who was working with the Avengers and stopped a runaway train which the news on the television reported.

That explained the familiarity tug in his gut that refused to go away until he figured it out. Once he did, it dissipated. Only to be replaced with a pounding headache. Not the worst pain he had ever been in, but certainly annoying. It had taken him too long to connect the dots. Too many one offs. He had to get better. Better at remembering things. Better at remembering his past. Just better.

When was he going to get better? When was it going to get easier? That he couldn't figure out. There were no memories that could offer him any solutions to that problem. All those memories caused pain. More pain than the regular headaches he frequently got. Though maybe he deserved it, all things considering. After everything he had done. He had caused a lot of pain after all. That much he knew for certain. The one thing he was confident in. The rest of it was fuzzy, unclear. And of course there was no one who could help him.

There was no one who could help her. It took her a bit, but she had realized that pretty quickly once her brain caught up with what was going on. First thing she noticed was that the ground was hard under her. Not uncomfortable, but definitely the first thing she noticed as she came to. Mostly because the last thing she remembered was hurtling through the air, just barely holding onto the Cradle. She had almost made it in the quinjet.

 _Almost_  being the key word.

Where she had ended up; however, was much worse.

The clanging of metal against metal reverberated around her. Echoing, a headache started to pound to the rhythm of the noise. There was an overpowering smell of something burning and it was much hotter than it should've been considering where she had last been. Though, obviously that location had changed.

Natasha slowly opened her eyes, knowing her other senses had done as much recon as they could. And while she could work from what sorts of sounds, smells and the what the environment around her  _felt_  like, she needed to be able to  _see_  what sort of situation she had landed in - already knowing that it wasn't a good one.

Proven right when she saw the scene before her, her stomach began to sink down. An understandable response when coming face to face with what seemed to be a robot factoryhouse. Other Ultron-style robots were stationed around the vast room she was in, all doing different tasks while seemingly working toward the same finished product. More Ultrons. They were building an army.

" _I wasn't sure you would wake up."_ Ultron's voice drifted over to her, getting her eyes to shift to it. It was standing at some sort of worktable, tinkering with what seemed to pieces of another robot, " _I hoped you would. I wanted to show you."_ it paused for a moment, red eyes on her before they looked back at the table, " _I don't have anyone else."_ if it was meant to incite sympathy from her, it didn't work. She was Russian after all.

Pushing up on her arm in a half attempt to sit up, a dull ache thrummed throughout her body. She wondered how long she had been out. Had the others even noticed her disappearance? She vaguely recalled hearing Clint's panicked shout of her name before she blacked out from the altitude. Did they know where she was? Honestly, she didn't even know where she was. All she could garner was that the area was much more vast than it had been. It seemed endless.  _They_  seemed endless.

" _I think a lot about meteors."_ Ultron suddenly said, getting her attention once again, " _The purity in them. Boom! The end. Start again."_ it began monologuing, only interested in the sound of its own voice and not noticing how Natasha moved back to prop herself up against the wall, " _The world made clean for the new man to rebuild. I was meant to be new. I was meant to be beautiful."_ it tilted its face up, shutting the eyes of itself in an almost human way, like it truly believed people were supposed to fawn over it, bow down like it was some sort of god in a world where there were already quite a few of them, " _The world would have looked to the sky and seen hope, seen mercy."_ it continued moving away from the worktable and focusing its full attention on her, " _Instead, they'll look up in horror because of you."_ it started to stalk toward her, but Natasha kept herself upright against the wall, only her hand darting out to find there was an open space beside her,  _You've wounded me. I give you full marks for that."_ it gestured to her, sounding almost impressed as she looked up at it, " _But, like the man said, what doesn't kill me -"_ Ultron was cut off as something smashed through its head. While the head exploded, the sound of metal slicing through metal drew her eyes down to where something was ripping Ultron in half. She shifted back into the open space behind her, trying to get as far away from whatever was happening in front of her. The old Ultron was torn apart, pieces clattering to the ground to reveal a bigger, more terrifying version of the robot,

" _just makes me stronger."_ it finished, as Natasha continued to try and get further away from it only to have her back hit a trunk of some sort. She stared up at it in alarm, her heart pounding against her chest as her breath came hard and fast. It grabbed the bars by the end of the doorway, slamming them across the space and trapping her on the other side. Usually, she would be annoyed by the action, but this time she was almost relieved.

In her life, Natasha had come face to face with a lot of horrifying things, but underneath it all, they were human and were able to be manipulated. Ultron was none of those things, which meant she had lost her usual upperhand. She would have to figure out another way to escape.

Luckily for her, in Ultron's dramatics, it had managed to send quite a few useful pieces of its old self into her cell with her. The AI left her alone, which was its first mistake, letting her find that the cell she had been locked in was used as storage for old tech. Including an old CD player that had radio capabilities. Long wave AM radio was one of the features, from the once over she gave it. Perfect.

Using her skills she had both been taught and learned out in the field, Nat disassembled the old Ultron form, only keeping what she needed in wires and switches. She worked quickly, as she was taught that the more time she wasted, the less time she had. It was about survival. It was always about survival. Until it wasn't. Until it was about saving people. Putting others before herself and taking hits that one day she might not get up from. That was what this was about. Not  _just_  escaping - though that was a goal that was very high on her list, but also warning others about what was happening.

She modified the radio she had discovered to work with the disassembled pieces of the former robot in order to enable a Morse code broadcast. Adjusting the antenna, she angled it with one hand, while her other hand began to tap out a simple  _SOS_ message. Not wanting to get caught, she kept an eye on Ultron and its mini Ultrons. All of the robots seemed to be completely focused on their task of building more of themselves, but Natasha knew it probably wouldn't last long. She continued to tap out her  _SOS_. Hopefully someone would hear it.

Honestly, Marina had learned Morse code just to spite Dawson when they were teens. He thought he had an upper hand on her, having learned it at a random summer camp, and constantly used it against her in the most teasing of taunting ways. So of course, she learned it. Didn't tell him about it until he used it again, surprising him into an annoyed grumble.

That being said, she was a little rusty. Not a lot people used Morse code anymore. No one did to be quite honest. Which was why it was surprising when she heard a rhythmic tapping coming through her headphones. She had been scanning the radio waves for any sort of broadcasts that could lead them to the ex-Hydra operative they had been trying to track down for over a year now.

After what happened with Q, they had put a pin in their search. Even though they probably shouldn't have considering she fully interacted with him. And when Marina did pick up the search again - despite the other two not being distracted by homesteads in Missouri, she found they had exhausted all their technological, modern day options. Bucky had stopped offing Hydra associates and seemed to disappear back into the shadows. Once again becoming the ghost story he was most famous for being. Except for all the murder.

So she turned to old, World War II-esque means of communication. Neither Q or Dawson ever told her exactly who they were trying to find but she had put together enough context clues to figure it out. Continued to learn more about their mark thanks to the leaked Hydra/SHIELD files that were still floating out around the internet, along with the Hydra journal she had to translate for Q and the black box they had stolen from the dead father of the bride all those months ago. She knew a lot, and enough to figure that if he wanted to contact anyone (if there even  _was_  anyone he would reach out to) he would turn to means of communication he was comfortable with as a soldier in World War II. Like HAM radios and Morse code.

What she wasn't expecting was an actual message. It threw her off guard, leaving her to quickly scramble for a pen and paper to sloppily jot down what she thought she heard, only to wait with baited breath for the sequence to repeat or another word to come in. She listened closely the second time, carefully copying the message down:  _SOS_

Turning to her radio that she had sitting on her table, she connected it to the software defined receiver and then to her computer to activate the tracking ability. The frequency wasn't too far away, coming from a small town just North of the coastal town they were staying in in Ukraine. Actually, the exact same place Q had been kept during her time with Hydra. A strange coincidence, but not one she lingered on; with the location found, she returned the message in form, asking for information on the sender themselves. If it turned out to be their missing ghost story, she would be so proud of herself. And of course would immediately rub it in Dawson and Q's faces.

Whoever was on the other side began to use abbreviations to help speed up the conversation. They mixed their Q codes in with their prosigns and general brevity code, but Marina managed to keep up. Swapping the abbreviations for the full words and phrases, she took some liberties in order to make a full explanation. What she ended up with was something about an AI named Ultron building an army and how whoever was on the other line was trapped, needing a save. Not was what she was expecting, leading her to believe that she wasn't talking with Bucky, but someone else instead.

She tapped back a request for the operator to give the code associated with their user, hoping to clear up the confusion. Not so much about the AI and Ultron; she had heard all about the murder-robot from Dawson once they returned from their trip to Missouri, but she did want to know who was communicating by Morse code. The why was pretty obvious, whoever was operating the radio was in a last resort situation and looking for help from wherever they could find it.

 _N-A-T_  came the response, which made Marina pause. She tapped back, asking for it to be repeated and the same three letters came over again. Nat. Dawson's Nat. It had to be. She didn't know any other Nat's and it was too coincidental to be random. God, out of all the HAM radios in all the world…

Taking off her headphones, she moved away from her station. Intent on getting Dawson because he should be the one dealing with this. She wasn't sure what she was allowed to give away or not and God forbid she say the wrong thing. They had been so secretive about who was allowed to know what over the last year, it was beginning to get annoying. But she could understand it enough to realize she should probably have Dawson continue the conversation.

Though when she stepped outside, it was clear that he  _shouldn't_  be anywhere near the radios or even know about what was going on. He and Q were still sitting in their beach chairs - where they had been ever since they got back from Missouri, empty bottles of various alcohols scattered around them like a circle of salt to ward of whatever demons were haunting them. It clearly wasn't working, considering how they passed another bottle of vodka between them.

"For fuck's sake." she muttered under her breath at the scene before her. It was the middle of the day, and they were completely shit faced. Had been in a permanent state of it since their return. Guess she would have to handle it herself.

While she  _really_ didn't want to go to Sokovia to save her friend's ex-girlfriend, it was the only option. Nat was obviously trapped and the list of people who could pick up her message was limited. Unless she had some sort of long wave AM radio, which Marina was sure she didn't. There wasn't anyone else who was going to help her - especially not her currently drunk ex-boyfriend and his friend. Though if they were in a sober state of mind, Marina was sure they'd be on the first train out.

God, Dawson was really going to owe her now.

Though neither of them would notice Marina was gone until it was too late. And even then, there was no saving her.

* * *

_A/N: I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter? I don't really love it and feel like it was kinda boring haha basically just setting up things for the Big Stuff. BUT I really hope you liked the little insight into what Bucky's been up to since we last saw him! I'd love to do more Bucky POVs so let me know if you want that or not._

_Anywhooooo thank you so much for reading/following/favoriting this story! I really appreciate it and love hearing all of your thoughts! I also know nothing about Morse code so everything I got was from a brief internet search so yea lol_


	72. nothing to do but watch

" _Reports are just now coming in that the center of Sokovia has separated from the rest of the city, rising up at a rapid speed. We are told that the United States' Avengers arrived at the city just moments before and from our understanding tried to evacuate as many as they could before it took flight. There's no word on how many citizens are still on the city but it safe to assume the entire Avengers team are still onboard -"_

" _-Witnesses say they saw robots not unlike Iron Man's Iron Legion attacking the Avengers and other bystanders mere moments before the city took off in flight -"_

" _-From what we know, all the Avengers are still on the city-"_

" _-Our thoughts and prayers are with the team as they fight their way through this. Stay tuned for updates."_

"Oh my god, just pick one already." Dawson groaned from his terminal. She stopped flipping through the news channels. She glanced over her shoulder to see Dawson's attention was solely focused on the three screens in front of him. Settling on the last one she had landed on, she dropped the remote to the couch, but stayed standing. Her arms crossed over her chest and she shifted her weight from foot to foot while her eyes returned back to the coverage of the flying city once more.

The aftershocks had been large enough to reach them all the way in the Ukraine. Sobering both of them up pretty quickly and sending them racing inside the beach house. While he promptly took to his computer, she turned on the news. Both of them were immediately faced with the knowledge and horror that Ultron had managed to break apart Sokovia and send it flying into the air like it was nothing more than a frisbee. A frisbee that seemed to have their friends and exes on board.

"Any sign of Marina?" she asked as the news faded into a commercial for diapers. She turned away from the television to grab the handle of alcohol on the coffee table. An empty glass was sitting right next to it which made her pause for a moment and think about pouring the alcohol into it but then she nixed that idea and lifted the bottle straight to her lips. Why dirty a glass?

"The last ping from her cell phone placed her right near the center of the city." he glanced over his screens at her, eyes full of what seemed to be worry for his quasi-friend. Deep down he cared for her, despite the years that had passed and the shit they had gotten up to. Rubbing his hands over his face, then shoving them through his hair, he groaned. "God, she's so stupid sometimes." he got up from his chair, looking down at his desk to gently push through some papers that were there. She hadn't told him or Q that she was leaving, nor gave them any reasoning as to why she left. Trying to keep his emotions in check, he didn't let on to the fact that he was just as scared for her as he was angry at her for going leaving.

One of the papers had Marina's chicken scratch handwriting all over it. All sorts of dashes and dots with letters underneath covered the page. A quick glance proved it was Morse code that she had translated.

"Q…" he started, having picked up the page and crossing over to where she was steadily drinking from the large handle of alcohol, "look at this." he came up next to her, exchanging the bottle in her hands for the paper he was holding.

"N-A-T." she spelled out aloud, brow furrowing a bit as her eyes traced over the other phrases and acronyms that Marina had translated.  _She was working the radio trying to find Bucky but had found someone else in trouble instead._ "Oh my god, she went to Sokovia to rescue Nat." Q realized, with a glance over to Dawson, who was paling hard and fast. It was confirmed that Nat, along with the rest of the Avengers, and Marina were in - and now on, the city.

At the same time, both of their heads turned back to the television. The news was back on, showing live footage of the city moving higher and higher into the sky, with no intent on coming down anytime soon - or slowly.

It happened fast. The ground beneath her feet began to rumble. Feeling her entire self began to sway with the shifting ground beneath her, she glanced down at her feet in a slight panic. Loud cracking sounds chimed in with the general, low rumbling of the Earth, creating a harmony of chaos that made Marina's chest tighten. It was some sort of earthquake. And she was standing right in the middle of a bridge.

Another one of those weird robots came at her, making her swing the metal pipe she had grabbed the first time one had attacked her. It smashed against the side of its head at the same time a loud crack echoed through the air. Looking behind her, she could clearly see rocks crumbling over an edge as the bridge unwillingly separated from itself. Oh, this was much more than an earthquake.

"Shit!" she cursed loudly, taking off into a dead sprint as the separation line caught up with her. There was no way she could go back down the bridge, the gap was already too big to jump over. The sounds of rocks and cars falling into the void below was enough to propel her forward toward the part that was rising up into the sky.

With one final leap, she desperately tried to jump over to the other side of the bridge. Only to miss. Her hand just barely missing one of the structural pipes that were buried deep into the concrete under the bridge. Heart leaping to her throat, she lingered in the air for a split second before gravity took ahold of her.

Steve saw the woman jump across the gap between the bridge. An outstretched hand reaching for anything to grab hold of to anchor her, keep her from disappearing into the ever growing valley below. Tossing one of Ultron's robots over the edge like a rag doll, he sprinted to the edge of the bridge.

With a baseball slide the 1920's Yankees would be proud of, his hand shot out to grab hers in a valiant effort to save her. But he was just a moment too late. His fingers just grazed the tips of hers. Too late and too far. He had no choice but to watch as she disappeared into the gap of nothingness below.

Though she didn't scream, his brain filled the silence with the sound of Bucky's final screams of panic. The same ones he listened to as Bucky fell to his supposed death down into the snow abyss. Steve had tried to save him too. Hands just grazing each other before gravity took over. Just as what had happened with the woman on the bridge. Faces both contorting a sudden fear that the realization that there was nothing below them except air. Who knew how far down any sort of piece of land was. The only difference this time around was that he was pretty sure she wouldn't be "saved" by Hydra and turned into the super soldier of his nightmares. He had failed. Again.

The memory of the day on the train was suddenly brought to the forefront of his mind. Something he hadn't thought about in a long time, only to be triggered immediately after the woman fell. Gut twisting at the thought of that fateful day, he shut his eyes and tried to calm himself down. Now wasn't the time to have these feelings surface again. Not with everything going on. He had tried to save both of them. He had tried. That had to be enough. With a slow exhale, he reminded himself that it  _was_  enough.

When he opened his eyes, he let them linger on the spot where the woman fell. Committing her to memory, he vowed to find out more about her so he could give her family peace, so that she would never be forgotten. Just as he didn't forget Bucky.

After a moment, his eyes finally moved from the spot where the woman had disappeared. Shifting his gaze over to the city below, he noticed how it was becoming smaller and smaller. Sokovia was flying. And he suddenly realized the woman, with the fall to her death, had taken the only way off.

"They're not going to make it off." Q said matter of factly, interrupting whatever the news anchor was saying about the situation in Sokovia.

"You don't know that." her friend tried to placate her, knowing there wasn't enough alcohol in the world to help numb that pain, "They've gotten out of some worse situations." Hell, they didn't even have enough alcohol to deal with what was going on right then and there. The empty handles littering the coffee table confirmed that. Their supply was running scarce and after that day, there wouldn't be any alcohol left in the beach house at all.

"When?" she snapped out, head flicking over to Dawson. He thought about it for a moment, then shrugged with a noise that was universally used when someone didn't know the answer. She sighed heavily then took another generous chug out of the quickly emptying bottle of alcohol.

"They're gonna die." she said solemnly, eyes trained on the footage of the city, "They're gonna die and we're never gonna see them again." she realized, eyes going wide, "No, no, no they can't die. Steve's - Steve's still mad at me. I can't have him die being mad at me." she whirled around to face Dawson who had taken up residency horizontally on the couch while watching the news, "I have to apologize. Tell him I love him - I - I...what if this is the last time I'll be able to talk to him?" her emotions began to rise, taking over whatever logical thinking her brain was trying to accomplish. Thanks to the amount of alcohol she had been consuming, everything was both heightened and dulled.

"Stop being dramatic, Q." Dawson groaned, "It's going to be fine." he sighed before taking another drink from his own personal bottle. He didn't like the role reversal that was happening. Q was always supposed to be the level-headed one, not whatever mess and a half she was now and even more so since she was drunk. It was hard enough to watch a city rise into the clouds while knowing the only love of his life was stuck on it as it was - he didn't want to be worrying about Q's mental state too.

"I'm not being dramatic! I am reacting  _very_ appropriately given the situation!" she cried out, voice breaking a bit, "You're acting like nothing's wrong at all!" she gestured wildly to the television, enough to make some of the alcohol spill out of its bottle.

"Fuck you, Q." he scoffed, picking at the label of the handle and not even bothering with a glance to her.

"Fuck me?" she pointed at herself with raised eyebrows, swaying a bit as she did, "Fuck  _you_." she seethed out with a point at him.

"No, fuck  _you_ , Q." he got to his feet rather suddenly, making Q pull back a bit, "Fuck you, alright? You think you're so good at reading people and knowing what's going on in their head, but you're not. You're not. Because if you  _were_ , you'd know that I am very much  _not_  okay with what's going on right now." he kept his voice calm at first, which scared her even more as he continued, "I am  _freaking_  out right now." he let out a desperate sounding laugh, "My fucking ex-girlfriend is on a flying city that's infested with killer robots while a girl that I've known since I was  _twelve_  went to go rescue her - for who the fuck knows why! Only to get stuck on said city." he raised his shoulders up a bit, "She's probably dead for all I know!" letting them drop he continued, "And you think just because I'm not  _breaking down_  about it like you, that I'm okay!?" a short scoff escaped him and he shook his head, "Fuck you, Q. Fuck you." he went to turn away but then double back, "You know, this is not all about you, Q!" he reminded her, raising both his voice and his eyebrows, pointing harshly at her, "I gave up  _everything_! To follow you on this - this adventure or whatever the hell you wanna call it. Everything! My life, my friends, the love of my goddamn life…" his eyes shifted to the television screen behind her for a moment before locking back on to her, "I could've stopped all of this from happening if I didn't follow you to  _Fucksville,_  Ukraine!" the loudness and the aggressiveness of his voice was enough to make her flinch back, "But no! No!" she put her hands up a bit as if to defend herself from the sheer intensity of the yelling, "No, I had to come with you! And now, I'm probably gonna lose the only other person I care about as much as I care about you!" he gestured just as wildly as she had to the television screen, "And there's not a goddamn thing I can do but watch and listen to you whine! So  _fuck you!"_  he ended on a rather loud note. With his eyes boring into hers with a fire she had never seen on him before, he took a hard swallow from the bottle of alcohol, then turned and stormed out of the house. The slam of the door was hard enough to make her jump once more.

The sound of the news faded into the background as Q was left standing in the middle of the living room. Alone. All the air had been sucked out of the room once Dawson slammed the door behind him. She gasped for breath, trying not to drown even though there was no water around. There was a pressure in her head that pressed down hard, somehow aligning perfectly with the pulsing of her heart that filled her ears. A glance down at her hands proved that she was shaking just as the Earth had a few hours prior. Grip tightening on the handle of alcohol, she tried to steady herself but failed.

Her central nervous system was going haywire, trying to both understand and react to what just happened to her at the hands of someone she loved and trusted. Dawson had yelled at her before, sure, but out of annoyance. Frustration. Not pure, unadulterated anger like she had just seen. She had pushed him too far. He was right. It  _was_  her fault. She had already been aware of this - for a long while now, but hearing it confirmed was a much different story.

And she knew that he was worried. Knew that he was lonely and scared and freaking out about what could possibly happen to their friends and loved ones. She shouldn't have reacted like she had. God, she just couldn't do anything right these days, could she?

Another glance back to the television reminded her of what was currently going on. Her stomach rolled at the reminder of something he pointed out: that they really couldn't do anything but watch it happen. Another wave of nausea washed over her at the thought that, yes, she had already lost Steve, but with him stuck on a flying city fighting an army of robots, she could quite possibly lose him permanently. With zero chance of ever getting him back.

Stumbling over to the coffee table, she grabbed her phone with her free hand. She sloppily managed to get to his contact name and connect the call, only hoping that he somehow got service however many feet up in the sky he was. The first time went straight to voicemail, as did the second, and the third, fourth and fifth time she tried.

Desperation flooded her system. She just needed to hear his voice. Hear him say her name one last time. The thought of losing him permanently weighed down on her shoulders, forcing her to the ground. As she sunk down onto her ass, propping her back against the table, she tried again, this time listening to the robotic voice on the other line telling her to leave a message.

"Steve, baby, it's me. It's Q." she managed out, "I - I...fuck, I can't...I don't know what's going on but the city's flying and I can't - I can't lose you. I can't!" her voice broke a bit, "And I know I have no - no say in any of this and don't have any...right to say that considering…but I'm sorry." she sniffled, "God, I'm so sorry, Steve. I fucked up. I made a mistake and I hurt you. I know that. But I need you to forgive me.  _Please_." she was fully crying now, knowing her face was contorting into the ugliest expression ever as it always did when she cried, "I love you. That hasn't changed. I love you so much and you - I don't know what I'd do with myself if I knew you were still mad at me. If you still hated me. And this was how things ended." she didn't bother to wipe her tears from her face, "I love you, Steve. I hope you get this before…" she trailed off for a moment, eyes trained on the television screen that was still steadily showing footage of Sokovia, "I love you. And I'm sorry. I'm so  _sorry_." her voice cracked again. She pressed the phone harder against her ear as if she would suddenly be able to hear Steve on the other line. But there was just silence, "I love you." she whispered, repeating herself several times until the voicemail ended itself.

Phone falling from her hand, she took in a shaky breath and tried to center herself. Eyes shifting back to the television screen, she took another swig from the last remaining handle of alcohol. She would try her hardest to numb the feelings flooding her system at the moment. Because there was nothing she could do but watch as the city climbed higher and higher into the sky.

As the city continued to climb higher and higher into the sky, the clouds began to surround them. If it were under any other circumstances, he would've marveled at the sheer beauty that came with being so high up. But the destruction around him reminded him that where they were wasn't a good thing. While there was still a bit of time before the next wave of Ultron bots attacked, it was becoming clearer that there was no way off the city. And, as Tony pointed out, the impact radius that would be affected whenever it ultimately dropped, was getting bigger every second. The people were going nowhere. And neither was he.

"I didn't say we should leave." Nat pointed out, pausing their argument over whether or not they should blow the city and save millions. He looked over to her with a heavy sigh, meeting her eyes for a moment before she started nodding, "There's worse ways to go." she said as if she had imagined the other possibilities.

"Are you sure?" he asked, the question having a weight to it that both of them were aware of. Reminding each other what they had lost and what they were going to lose permanently if they stayed.

Instinctively, Steve's thoughts turned to Q, wondering where she was, if she was okay and if she even knew what was happening. There was no way for him to contact her, what with being hundreds of thousands of feet in the air, but he just wanted to hear her voice one last time. His anger toward her lessened with each foot the city gained. That tended to happen when you were closest to death. He knew that much from previous experiences. All the things you wished you said, wished you did...he remembered every word he wished he said to Peggy before he went into the ice. And he thought of every word he wished he could've said to Q before the city feel. The anger, betrayal, hurt, nostalgia, heartbrokenness...all of that faded and was replaced with a need to know that she was okay and that she knew how much he still loved her. Despite it all.

The wind harshly blew Nat's red curls across her face. She moved one hand to brush them away, eyes leaving his for a moment. He wondered if she was thinking something similar toward Dawson. They had managed a quick conversation after the events at the homestead. When her eyes returned to meet his, there was a look of acceptance in them.

"Where else am I gonna get a view like this?" she asked, nodding to scene before them. She had come to terms with the fact that none of them were getting out of the situation alive. Steve wished he could feel the same.

" _Glad you like the view, Agent Romanoff."_ Fury's voice crackled over their comm pieces, " _It's about to get better."_

Out of the clouds rose what could only be called a miracle. One of the helicarriers SHIELD used during the Battle of New York came into view, Fury obviously at the helm. Surprise crossed both of their faces as they watched lifeboats detach from the ship itself and fly over to the edges of the city. Placed perfectly to where the team had been crowding people together to keep them safe during the waves of Ultron attacks.

"Fury, you son of a bitch." Steve commented at the sight of their savoir. A slight rush of relief coursed through his veins at the realization that they could get everyone off the city without issue. They could save everyone above as they tried to figure out how to save everyone below.

" _Oh! You owe a dollar to the jar, Captain."_ Fury teased, but it didn't even bother him in the slightest.

"This is SHIELD?" Pietro asked in what seemed to be awe at the sight of the rescue.

"This is what it's supposed to be." he agreed with a slight nod. He thought back to all the times he had discussed SHIELD with Q, how they had conversations about their thoughts regarding SHIELD and the actions it took. Before the Hydra infiltration came to light, Q had believed that SHIELD was something that protected its citizens, helped saved the world. And as badly as Steve wanted to believe that, at the time he didn't. Now, he could see what Q had believed in.

"This is not so bad." Pietro tilted his head at the helicarrier, accent lilting his words as one of the lifeboats docked near them.

Unfortunately, from there, it wasn't as easy as one, two, three. While they continued to load people onto the lifeboats, Ultron was still an issue that needed to be dealt with. Especially considering he was still threatening to drop the city early and cause an impact that would devastate everything below them. Leaving Rhodey and SHIELD to handle evacuating the city onto the lifeboats, Steve met the other Avengers in the center of the city where the core was. All of them were ready for the battle, though there seemed to only be a few, easily taken out, mini Ultron robots.

"Is that the best you can do!?" Thor taunted as Ultron appeared before them. The robot raised its hand up, like a signal for the rest of the mini Ultrons. A giant wave of them appeared, much larger than any of the other waves they had taken on prior.

"You had to ask." Steve sighed heavily, looking over to Thor in a rather unamused fashion. God, he was so tired of these fucking robots. He wasn't a science nerd like Bucky or Dawson. He just wanted them dead and gone.

" _This is exactly what I wanted."_ Ultron gestured to them, " _All of you, against all of me. How could you possibly hope to stop me?"_ it asked with a tilt of its head.

"Like the old man said," Tony's voice came from the Iron Man suit, head turning a bit to look at Steve, "together." At that, Hulk let out a massive war cry, starting the battle between the Avengers and the mini Ultrons.

Over the years, Steve's approach to a fight had both changed and stayed the same. For as long as he remembered, he had a shield - whether it be the fancy vibranium shield he fought with in the present or the shitty trash can lids he had picked up during alley fights in the 1940s. But the people he fought side by side with changed, developed over time. First it was just him and Bucky, then the Howling Commandos, before finally the Avengers. His approach changed based on who was by his side - both watching his back and taking out whatever came close. With the Howling Commandos, he could count on Bucky to be his eyes above. Much like he now did with Tony and Thor. The rest of the men flanked his side, letting him feel safe enough to only focus on the things in front of him. His closest comrades in arms. Just like Natasha, Clint, and the Hulk. After the past year, working together with them felt as natural as working with the Howling Commandos and he found himself truly trusting them in a fight.

The new team players came in the form of Wanda and Pietro, and Vision. The twins had proved themselves on the train in South Korea. He knew he could count on Pietro to - quite literally, quickly take out any robots he might have missed while Wanda could easily rip apart five or six of them with just a flick of her wrist. Vision was an added pair of eyes above, which made it easier for him to keep his attention on taking out the mini Ultrons that came charging at him on foot.

He alternated between kicking back the robots with his foot and hitting them with his shield, warding them off with Wanda by his side using her magic to crush them into pieces. One robot grabbed him around the throat, forcing him to wrestle with it for a moment before tearing it off of him and slamming it to the ground. Another, he managed to flip over himself and grab in a momentary choke hold, only to rip its head off its body with a fluid motion.

Launching himself up, he spun horizontally in the air to avoid one of the flying robots and used his shield to slam down on one below him as he landed - Vision taking care of the other flying one. He punched and kicked and hit and slammed any and every robot who came into his eyeline. The sounds of the others taking out the robots in their own way fueled him to contribute to the symphony of their defense.

There seemed to be no end to the onslaught of attack robots. He wasn't sure how much time had passed or how many robots he had actually disarmed, but at one point, all of them stopped in their tracks. Steve took the opportunity to punch one squarely in the face before noticing how the rest seemed to turn and run like they were fleeing the battle scene. Giving up.

While he wondered why, he didn't linger on it. The moment of pause was enough for everyone to catch their breath. Though it was harder to than it was before - the city was getting too high up.

"We gotta move out." he addressed Nat, Clint and Wanda, "Even I can tell the air is getting thin." he glanced at them, knowing that if it was tough for him to regulate his breathing, it was worse for them, "You guys get to the boats. I'll sweep for stragglers. Be right behind you." he shifted quickly into Captain mode, giving out orders as he saw fit.

"What about the core?" Clint asked with a glance what he mentioned. Even if the mini Ultrons fled the scene, it could've been a trick. There could still be a few of its minions that were left behind who still wanted to carry out its plan.

"I'll protect it." Wanda volunteered, "It's my job." she reminded all of them of the side she had chosen. Steve's eyes met Wanda's for a moment, silently understanding the choice she made and nodding once in response.

Going the opposite way of Clint and Nat, Steve did one final sweep of the city to make sure no one was left behind. By the end of it, he gathered a small group and led them to the last remaining lifeboat. Thor was there waiting for him to arrive so he could head back to the core to enact Tony's plan.

Suddenly, gunshots rained down from what was left of the sky above them. The quick successions of shots weren't aimed anywhere specific but also aimed everywhere. The force of the blasts sent Steve diving behind a statue, only just managing to raise his shield up to protect himself from whoever was shooting at them.

As quickly as the shots started, they stopped. An eerie silence slid over the city, taking the place of the gunfire. Steve moved from behind the statue just in time to see Pietro collapse onto the ground - body decorated with blossoming red spots of blood. He clipped his shield onto his back and leapt over various debris to get to where Pietro and Clint were.

Staring down at the body of their ally, he could tell that Pietro had used himself as a shield to protect Clint and the small child he had saved. For as fast as Pietro was, his body was too slow to save himself.

Picking up Pietro's limp body in his arms, he let his eyes linger on the man's face for a moment. Hell, he was really only a boy. Barely a man, thrown into a war at such a young age and had done what he thought was necessary to save his country. Just as Steve had many years before.

He had only known Pietro for a smattering of days, and there were only a couple where they were on the same side. Yet, he admired how he didn't pause to sacrifice himself in an effort to save someone else. It again reminded Steve of a time when he did the same. Pietro was a hero, and Steve would be damn sure history remembered him as such.

With a step off the lifeboat, he did a cursory glance around the square. There was nothing else in front of him that could be saved. And thank God for that because as soon as the thought left his brain, the city suddenly dropped at the same rate the Cyclone at Coney Island did.

Quickly reacting, Steve turned and leapt onto the lifeboat before it got too far away. His heart pounded with adrenaline at the near-death experience - though he figured his body would be used to that by now. Peering over the edge of the lifeboat, he watched the city of Sokovia plummet to the Earth below. There was truly nothing he could do but watch.

Q could only watch in silent horror as the city of Sokovia plunged down to the Earth below. No matter how much alcohol she had consumed over the hours, the footage she were seeing was sobering. Despite seeing the SHIELD helicarrier and lifeboats, she didn't know if Marina or Steve or Nat or any of the others had made it on board.

Once again, Q tried to call Steve. She turned away from the television, not being able to watch any more. Holding her breath, she listened to the phone ring once, twice, three times before there was an audible click.

" _Hello?"_ Steve's confused voice came over the other side. At the sound of it, her knees gave out from under her and sent her sinking to the ground behind the couch. A broken sob escaped instead of any actual words, Q being so overcome with relief and emotion that she didn't even care how she was coming across.

"Thank God!" she cried out, "Oh thank God, Steve." she pressed her hand to her chest to calm her frantic heartbeat, "I...I was so worried." she took in big gulps of air, trying to calm herself down, "I - the news - Sokovia." she didn't know what she was trying to say - mostly everything at once, but it wasn't working.

" _I'm okay, Q."_ he assured her. She ignored how the connection was a bit staticy and instead focused on the sound of his voice.

"You're okay." she breathed out, letting her head fall back against the back of the couch while a few tears escaped, "You're okay." she repeated again, "I was so worried. I kept calling-"

" _Yeah, well, phone service is pretty shitty when you're hundred of thousands of feet in the air."_ he joked even though there was a tightness to his voice. She let out a breathless laugh, hand falling from her chest.

"Yeah, I guess so." she agreed, taking in a few more calming breaths before she continued, "I'm so glad you're okay. I don't - I don't know what I would've done if you weren't." she admitted.

" _I'm glad I'm okay too."_ he paused for a moment before continuing, " _It's good to hear your voice."_ he admitted, sounding like he truly meant it. And he probably did, considering what he had just gone through.

"It's good to hear yours too." she was still a bit breathless. The full realization that he was okay hadn't completely settled yet. There was a pregnant pause before she spoke again, "Can I see you?" she asked, heart longing to be with him again. To truly make sure he was okay and not just telling her what she wanted to hear. The silence on the other line was deafening enough to make her think that they had gotten disconnected, but when she pulled her phone away from her ear, she saw that he was still on the line, "Steve?" she placed the phone back against her ear, "Steve, please." she was about to start begging with him, "I..." she tried to come up with a good enough excuse to make him say yes, but everything her brain offered up seemed to be too weak.

" _Okay."_ he agreed after another small moment of silence, " _Where?"_ he put the ball in her court, letting her decide all the details.

She glanced to the side, seeing Dawson pacing outside the doors of the house. She couldn't bring Steve to the beach house; it would be too hard to see him leave. She couldn't very well go back to New York either; it would be too hard to leave the life she once had. It had to be somewhere in between. Somewhere neutral. Like Switzerland - except not  _literally_  Switzerland.

"Croatia." she answered, "In two days. Just you and me. I'll send you the exact location when I get there." she quickly outlined a general plan.

Before he could say anything else or before she could lose her nerve, she hung up the phone. She had a trip to Croatia to plan.

* * *

_A/N: A reunion is happening! I really didn't want to do AoU, but I'm not that mad at how it turned out! I hope you liked it - please give me all of your thoughts and reactions and everything in between. I love hearing them! Thank you so much for reading this story! Love you all!_

_(Also how do we feel about Spidey being out of the MCU?!)_


	73. fall back into old ways

Since the remaining Avengers were all dealing with the ramifications post-Ultron, no one really questioned him when he said he was going to be taking a few personal days before returning back to the States. After all, they had almost just died. Some of them even did.

There were the textbook post-op things they had to do similar to what they had done after the Battle of New York: Tony would set up relief funds, Nat would look after the reuniting of families, and Steve - along with all the other Avengers, would have to have debriefs upon debriefs from all different branches of the government. Plus, there was the added bonus of figuring out what to do now that the stone inside of Loki's scepter was inside an android that had helped save the world. Not to mention trying to track down where Hulk had flown off to after saving Nat. But hell, all of them deserved a bit of a break before jumping into what came next. A chance to heal and rest and, in Steve's case, travel all the way to Split, Croatia to see his ex-girlfriend.

All he remembered about Croatia was that in World War Two, it had been fascist puppet state of Germany. Obviously, times had to have drastically changed since that was where Q wanted to meet. Though he didn't remember every single country he and the Howling Commandos had been to while taking down Hydra - the landlines weren't as clear in the middle of forests or in the valleys of mountains, he was sure that he had to have made his way through Croatia at least once. But the details were fuzzy when it came to specific details.

What with Sokovia being close to the country itself, he was expecting it to be similar to the country he had just risked his life to save Though he was pleasantly surprised to find that Split was a much more quiet, coastal town. The address Q had given him a few hours before he touched down led him to an apartment building that looked out across the docks and a very nice Croatian man named Tommo who was more than happy to lead him up to the apartment he was apparently staying in. Steve barely listened to a word he said about the town, being too tired to really focus on anything except getting to wherever had a bed for him to collapse into. Saving an entire flying city from a murderous AI took a lot out of a guy. That and he was also a little nervous about seeing Q again. Even if they had seen each other only a few days prior. A lot had happened in between those days.

Tommo left him in front of a door with a set of keys, a wish for a comfortable stay and a reminder to let him know if there was anything Steve needed. He waited until the man walked away to turn his attention to the door.

The keys in his hand were suddenly heavier than anything he had ever held before. He rolled them around in the palm of his hand for a moment, debating with himself. He could just  _not_ go into the apartment. There was no reason why he owed Q any sort of visit like this. But she had asked. She had made the effort. So that had to mean something, right? And maybe this wouldn't fix everything at once, but it would probably help the healing process. At least a little bit. He tried not to get his hopes up, remembering what she had done and what she had failed to do in order to keep him grounded.

The door to the apartment opened easily, allowing him to step inside and shut the door behind him. There was a bowl on the side table against the wall that already held another pair of similar keys. Which probably meant Q was already at the apartment, even though he didn't see any other sign of her. Or even her herself. Not that it mattered, it gave him a chance to do a quick sweep of the apartment. Partially for safety, mostly out of curiosity.

Right in front of him were two massive windows that gave way to a beautiful view of the docks and neighboring buildings. One pair of windows had a handle on it that led to a small balcony area that had two chairs and a smaller table set up. The front room was simply decorated with all the normal living room furniture plus a couple of nicely framed photos of random spots around the town. As he stepped more fully into the apartment, he looked to his right to see there was a small kitchenette complete with a breakfast bar that divided the hallway he was standing in from the rest of the kitchen. With a small table and a few chairs, he knew that was the dining area. Everything was white and almost sparkly, with only a few hints of navy blue and grey as accent colors, but almost no sign of being lived in.

There were a row of mirrors alongside the opposite side of the wall of the mini hallway he was standing in and he took a glance over at himself. It was a miracle he had even made it to the apartment. Even he could tell he looked pretty wrecked. Before he could get too deep into his self-assessment, he paused when his peripheral vision caught another reflection in the mirror. His eyes shifted up, looking over his reflected shoulder because standing behind him was Q herself. They stared at each other in the mirror for a moment before she gave him a small smile which made him turn around to look at her.

While it had only been a few days since they had last seen each other, it could've easily been a lifetime. Back on the homestead, she had looked like hell - even after her shower. Nothing could erase the bags under her eyes, no amount of Lelia's detangling shampoo could have gotten those knots out, even Laura's clothes were huge on her despite the height difference (though maybe that also had something to do with Q not being pregnant).

As he took in her appearance standing in the middle of the apartment, there were still traces of the bags under her eyes and her hair wasn't as tamed as it normally was, but her clothes didn't swallow her whole anymore. He wanted to say she looked better, but that would've been a lie. Yet, she didn't look worse, which was good to see.

"Hi." she greeted him softly, then cleared her throat a bit. She was anxious as hell, having cleaned the already clean apartment from top to bottom during the few hours she had before he arrived. And it didn't help that he had been running late.

Briefly, she thought that he had bailed on her. She wouldn't blame him; even she was thinking about bailing. But after everything she had gone through and seeing almost everything he had too, she knew she needed to go. And he had shown up, which calmed some of her anxiety. He was alive. He had survived. It wasn't a trick.

Maybe only a few days had passed since they saw each other last, but it had been a long time since she had seen him post-mission. Just by looking at him, she could tell that what had happened in Sokovia had taken a toll on him. Much more than any of the other missions. His shoulders immediately, instinctively slumped down at the sight of her, dropping the Captain stance he had been wearing during his travels. Making him look less like a superhero who had just saved the world and more like a regular man, exhausted from a plane ride. Though Q knew there was more going on inside that head of his. There were a smattering of healing cuts and bruises around his face, the smell of antiseptic was strong, and his fingers continued to fiddle with the keychain and the strap of his bag, telling her that he had basically come straight from Sokovia. Coming down from an adrenaline high and only treating the injuries that needed immediate care.

"Hey." his eyebrows raised a bit as he breathed out his response, sounding almost defeated even though they had won. She gave him a small smile at his greeting, immediately hearing the tone and reacting as she used to. It was odd; she hadn't played this role in a long time - being there when he returned from a mission, yet it was so easy to fall back into old ways. Instinctive, really.

Of course, her brain still remembered the drill: get him inside, out of the uniform, and have him take a shower. Then, while he was in the shower, make sure there was a snack or small meal that she had JARVIS order ready along with a fresh set of comfy clothes for when he was finished. From there it was about checking out the wounds while he ate, making sure medical didn't miss anything too terrible - not there was really anything to worry about with his serum infused body doing all the healing on its own. During that, he would talk about whatever had happened on the mission and she would listen. Like she always did.

And after everything he had just been through, Steve wanted that too. That sense of normalcy even though they were thousands of miles away from their home - or rather his home now, and their relationship had shifted. Which was how he found himself on the couch with Q next to him, inspecting the quickly patched up wound on his side. After getting out of his much needed shower, he found that she had laid out a set of comfy clothes she must've gotten from his bag. The smell of food made his stomach grumble and remind him that he probably hadn't eaten since he left the homestead.

Neither of them said anything as Q cleaned the area surrounding where one of the mini Ultrons had managed to slice him with its weird arm. He didn't even realize it had happened until he was already back on the SHIELD helicarrier. And as much as he trusted whichever medic had taken a look at it, he felt much better knowing Q was too. He always wondered how she knew what to do, considering she rarely got hurt herself on account of never getting involved in any sort of dangerous field missions, but figured it must've had to come from her past antics that ultimately landed her in jail.

The silence was both good and bad while she took care of the injury. In the past, she would talk about everything he had missed while he was away. Most times it would be stupid stories about what she and Dawson got up to while both he and Nat were gone. She would always start laughing while she told them, which made him laugh even though he could barely keep track of what was going on. A distraction from what she was doing and  _why_ she was doing it. Now, he wasn't even sure what they would talk about. Even though there were  _plenty_  of things to talk about.

Being this close to each other again was intimate, especially considering the tender way she touched him. Softer than she ever had before. Like she was holding back or was nervous that she was going to do something to hurt him - not that that would ever happen. Sometimes he wondered if she had pulled away without him realizing. A quick side glance over at her proved that she was entirely focused on the task at hand. Her hands lingered every so often and at one point, instinctively, he found himself leaning into the touch, which made her pause in her motion, tensing even. Eyes shifting up to meet his, they stared at each other until she swallowed hard and looked back down at his side.

"The good news is," she cleared her throat before she spoke, breaking the silence that had fallen around them, "you'll survive." she placed a gauze pad over the freshly cleaned wound, then pressed a bandage over it to make sure there was no chance of infection.

"Thank God for that." he sighed, glancing over to see her work and catching a brief glimpse of her amused smirk before it disappeared. She quickly pulled her hands away from his skin, almost like she was being burned by an unknown heat, then let them come together and began to twist her fingers around each other, "Looks good. Much better than what the SHIELD bay medic did." he complimented her and she let out a slight laugh.

"Thanks." she blushed, ducking her head down a bit so he couldn't see her face, "How's everyone else doing?" she asked with a raise of both her head and eyebrows. He pulled down the edge of his shirt so it covered the bandage.

"Good." he nodded, not sure if he should get into the various injuries and deaths the other Avengers had sustained. There was a lot she had missed and he wasn't sure if she really wanted to be caught up or if she was just being polite.

"Good." she matched his nods for a moment before the silence resumed for a moment. Then, she took in a breath, eyes shifting to his empty plate, "Food okay?"

"Yeah." he reached for it at the same time she did, both intending to take it to the sink. He paused in his motion, as did she, causing for an awkward dance between their hands before he finally backed off. As she took the plate in one hand, she grabbed the glass with the other, gesturing to him with it,

"Do you want more water?" she asked and he shook his head,

"I'm fine, thanks." he responded politely, stiffly almost. She gave him the briefest smile as she got to her feet, walking around the table and avoiding him rather than just stepping over him like she normally would.

Both of them cringed inwardly at the sheer amount of awkwardness happening between the two of them. As familiar as the acts between the two of them had been, falling into old ways didn't stop them from realizing that there was still a wide divide between them. Over a year had passed. Things had happened that neither were a part of. People met, people lost, places gone, things done. The longing to have everything be the same, to pick up right where they left off and pretend nothing had happened was nothing more than a pipe dream. It wasn't possible anymore. They were practically strangers now.

"I have to ask, Q," Steve finally broke the silence, getting up from the couch as he did, "What the hell are we doing here?" he asked the question that had been on his mind since the moment he walked through the apartment door. Hell, even before that - when he had gotten her text with the address of where to meet. He was curious as to why she had decided now of all times was the time she wanted to reunite with him. Willingly. She turned around to face him, bracing herself on the counter of the breakfast bar.

"I just wanted to see you." she answered, not sounding super sure of herself. And considering how she nervously played with the edge of her shirt, it was clear she wasn't.

"Could'a done that any time over the past year and a half." he pointed out with a slight eyebrow raise, "Why now?" he settled his hands on his hips, waiting expectantly for an answer - he was waiting for a lot of answers, actually, but this one should've been an easy one.

"I...I wanted to make sure you were okay." she admitted with a sad smile, "I saw what happened in Sokovia and I was...terrified." she breathed out, blinking a bit rapidly, "Terrified I was going to lose you."

"You already lost me though. In New York. The day you walked out the door." he reminded her with a slight raise of his chin. He knew the words were harsh, but they were true. And she needed to hear them. She took in a slightly surprised, sharp breath, shaking her head a bit.

"Don't, don't say that." she couldn't bear knowing that it was true. That one of her worst fears was coming true. His jaw clicked, getting a bit peeved that she wasn't accepting the consequences of her actions.

"You  _left,_ Q!" it came out louder than he intended, but he didn't pause, "And you  _lost_  the right to be concerned about me!" he sliced his hand through the air, ignoring her flinch at the volume of his voice.

"That's not fair, Steve." she breathed out, "That's not fair."

"Fair? You wanna talk about  _fair?!"_ his eyebrows rose, taking a step forward as he did so, "You want to know what's not fucking fair, Q? It's not fair that you left without a  _word_. It's not fair that it's been over a  _year_  of silence and now all of a sudden, you're here!" he gestured to her rather aggressively,

"We've already been through this!" she snapped out, "I know I fucked up! I know I -"

"Then why are we doing this?!" he cut her off, also not wanting to rehash the same conversation they had a few days earlier, "Why are you here!? Why are you taking care of me and -"

"Because I love you!" she rose her voice above his, taking two big steps forward and motioning to him with her hands, "I love you, you idiot!" he barked out a laugh, shaking his head a bit,

"You don't love me. If you loved me, you wouldn't have left the way you did! Or you would have included me in your little adventure plans!" she glared at him, not liking how he was referring to her plans as  _little_. Maybe her plan of action hadn't been as thought out as her plans usually were, but she  _had_  thought about them. Including the consequences, which was why it hadn't come easy to actually enact said plan. But she did, unfortunately.

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe I had done all that to protect you?" she asked with a cross of her arms over her chest. Anger was one of the emotions she hadn't quite felt yet after the serum had taken affect. There was an itch in her brain, different than the general static she always heard in the background. An itch that was dying to be scratched, one that she knew if she did - things would most likely get physical. She ignored it, never being one to lash out with her hands and trusting that she could defend herself mainly with her words and explanations. Though, her head was quick to remind her, that this seemed to be an undefendable situation.

"From  _what!?"_  he rolled up on his toes a bit, hands shoving into his pockets, "What could  _possibly_ be so fucked up that you had to do what you did in order to  _protect_  me?!" she opened her mouth to respond but he barreled over her, "Hell, Q, you can't pretend like everything you've done is for me! Not anymore! Not after all that's happened." he shook his head, "And now you just expect to come in here and act like we're fine?!" he asked with a gesture to the door to the apartment.

"Of course not!" she trilled out, "I already told you I know I -"

" _Fucked up_ , I know." he quoted her, rolling his eyes a bit, "You've said that a lot these past few days, but it doesn't even begin to  _cover_  what you did." she glared at him,

"At least I'm trying to fix it." she gritted out, barely keeping a level tone. His eyes widened at her comment, obviously not believing her.

"Are you?!" he took a step closer, "Because after the homestead, you disappeared -" he started to point out.

"Because you went to fight against a rogue,  _murderous_  AI!" she defended herself with a step and a motion at him, "What did you expect me to do?!  _Follow_ you?! Go back to the Hydra base where I was held  _hostage_  and got my head fucked with for twelve  _fucking_ days!?" Steve's jaw clenched at the painful reminder of what she had been through, but his anger was strong enough to burn past it. "Even despite that, you know I don't do well in those types of situations!" she cried out, referring to the last time she had been thrown into the middle of a similar situation. No flying cities per say, but just an old, Hydra brainwashed friend who was set on trying to kill them all. She had  _barely_ made it out of there then and all she had to do was run around. His eyes flicked to her thigh where her scar from Bucky's stray bullet was, remembering the same moment.

"So then is  _this_  your attempt to fix it?!" he shook himself out of it, knowing it wasn't the time to spiral deep into his previously resolved guilt of not being able to save her, which would then lead him to being reminded of how he hadn't been able to save her from Hydra. He moved on with a wide gesture to the space around them and a step closer to her, "Because this seems like you're compensating for a bit too much!"

"Oh fuck you, Steve." she groaned, getting angry at him for not appreciating the time and effort she had put into making this trip happen, "Of course this is  _too_  good for you. Would you rather me have us meet somewhere shitty? Would that prove to you how sorry I am?" she pouted a bit, which made him seethe; God, she was really playing it to get him as riled up as she could, wasn't she?

"No!" he shouted back at her, making her anger flare even more. He was offering up  _nothing_  in terms of ways he wanted her to make amends. All he was doing was criticizing her for things out of her control or even for trying to make things a little bit nice for them, at least for a passing moment.

"Then I don't know what you want me to do!" she gestured widely, matching the level of his voice, "I don't know what I can do or say to prove to you that I'm sorry!" she cried out, feeling both angry and desperate. It seemed like nothing was good enough for him now. And they would just keep going in circles, over and over and over again until one of them gave up. Since both of them were clearly so stubborn, she wasn't sure when that would happen.

Not realizing it until that moment, the two of them were standing right in front of each other. Their anger and frustration had moved them against their own accord. There was a heat that radiated from their bodies. Chests heaving from the accidental yelling match, each of them could almost hear each other's hearts hammering against their ribcages, beating fast with unintentional adrenaline. Eyes boring into each other's, there was a fire behind them that neither had seen in each other. And though they were mere centimeters apart, a thick wall of tension kept them apart.

But they were still so close to each other. So close that Q could see how his jaw clenched a bit in response to being so close and so worked up. So close that Steve noticed how her tongue darted out to quickly lick her lips. Breaths were hitched, pheromones were coming off in waves, and eyes were locked on each other's. There was an instinct pulsing between them that both wanted to act on, but neither knew how the other would react.

"I don't know either." he breathed out after a beat of silence.

Then, acting on the instinct, his lips crashed against hers.

* * *

_A/N: Just a tiny lil cliffhanger! I mean, we all knew this was gonna eventually happen right? Some angry sex? Who doesn't want THAT in a fanfic?! Please feel free to let me know all of your thoughts! I love reading each and every review you all leave. Thank you so much for reading/reviewing and everything in between!_


	74. need vs. want (m)

As soon as Steve's lips crashed against hers, something snapped. The air in the room shifted drastically, becoming thick with sexual tension. The angry fire behind their sternums raged on, though this time with a different intent on how to put it out. Before she could even think to kiss him back, he pulled away - leaving her wanting and moving toward him to try and catch his lips again. Her hands reached for his face, desperately trying to bring him back to her. At the motion, his came up to grab her wrists and forced them back to her sides. Clearly, but wordlessly telling her who was in charge.

There was a slight pause between them, both of them still trying to catch their breaths from the yelling match that had just occurred and from the searing kiss he had just delivered - but had broken off way too soon. Thankfully, his lips found hers again, hands moving to her waist to both yank her closer and begin to tug at her clothes. Getting the hint, she acted in tandem. Her hands went to the belt buckle of his pants, fumbling with it for a second in her rush before successfully releasing it. She ignored the sound of her buttons bouncing against the hardwood floors as a result of Steve's easy solution to rid her of her shirt, only focused on getting her arms out of the sleeves as quickly as possible so she could continue to desperately kiss him.

Stumbling both around the room and into each other, both of them eagerly undressed the other. As heated and anger driven as the moment was, it was also too precious to pass up. It had been too long for the two of them - together and separate. Hands were everywhere, trying to get past the annoying roadblocks that were pants and skirts and t-shirts. Kisses were near misses or fully desperate, wanting to drink in the feeling but also get as many as possible. Moans and grunts of want and need filled the room as background music. Both desperate for a release - both physically and emotionally.

With a trail of clothes behind them, he took hold of her hips again so to maneuver her wherever he wanted. They continued to stumble around the room for a moment before he took control and roughly picked her up. His hands went under her ass for support and also to tease her with a hard squeeze. Legs immediately wrapping around his waist, her arms went around his neck, grateful to be allowed to touch him even in the smallest of ways.

As her body started to catch up to what was happening, her brain was already six steps ahead. And while he was in charge, she tried her best to guide him away from certain things with small, hard tugs on his hair. The table he wanted to put her on was a no-go - it would break under the weight of what was about to happen. The formica counter was no match either - ready to crack with one hard slam. He seemed to have caught on and decided the wall would be the best option to push her up against. Q would beg to differ, but she wasn't the one in control this time.

With the wall as support, Steve shifted his grip from under her ass. One hand went to her hip while the other pried her hands from the back of his neck. He was able to hold both of her wrists together with one of his hands, placing them up above her head and holding them there tightly. At the realization that she wouldn't be allowed to touch him unless he wanted her to, she couldn't help but let out a slight whine against his lips. Which he ignored.

"Steve," she breathed out once his lips left hers in search of the pulse point on her neck. She wasn't sure what she was trying to say or make him do, but he seemed focused on ignoring her and doing whatever the hell he wanted.

A hard roll of her hips against him was enough to get his attention. Though he continued to tease the pulse point of her neck, he used his free hand to shove her legs off of him. She managed to catch herself on her feet, only slightly bumping against the wall. His lips found hers again, hungrily kissing her while his hand skated over her bare stomach. Q arched into the touch, wanting him to move a bit south.

Obliging for once, Steve moved downward to the edge of her underwear. Easily able to push it down, he let his hand hover over her for a moment. Never was he such a tease before, but damn if it didn't feel good to know he had all the cards. For once in over a year, he had her under his thumb. And the way her body was reacting to him,  _wanting_  him, he was going to make her suffer just a bit.

"Say you're sorry." his voice was right by her ear, rougher than she remembered it being after a hard makeout, almost a growl. Enough to make a shiver go down her spine and for her to try and thrust into his hand, desperate for any sense of relief. But he pulled even further away from her, making her whine a bit.

"I'm sorry, baby, I'm so sorry." she breathed out, "Please..." she trailed off, head becoming clouded with the intense want of what he was denying her. Her eyes met his, the intensity of his stare enough to make her breath hitch. Those baby blues she knew and loved were suddenly as dark as night, filled with both anger and lust. A rare combination that sent shivers down her spine. Surging forward, she kissed him desperately, openly moaning into his mouth when two of his fingers slipped inside of her.

Letting go of her hands so that he could keep her hips from rolling into him, Steve quickly continued to pump and twist his fingers. His thumb seeked out the spot that was most sensitive, causing her to jolt against his touch. Q's hands slid around his waist to his back where he felt her fingernails begin to drag down his skin - the angry red streaks fading almost instantly.

Steve pressed her up against the wall hard enough that she could feel the grains in the paint against her bare back. His motions were fast and almost aggressive, wanting her to reach her climax as quickly as possible. Which wasn't hard for her to do considering it had been almost two years since she had last been touched in the same way. She could only achieve so much on her own. Her nails dug into his shoulder blades, head falling back against the wall with a thump, and her mouth opening in a silent gasp as his fingers helped her ride it out.

As she came down, Q could practically feel the pure, unadulterated heat radiating from him and it only made her want him more. For once since escaping Hydra's grasp, she was completely out of her head and she wasn't about to waste the moment. Their lips quickly found each other, hard and searing kisses exchanged while her hands slid under the waistband of his underwear and continued to push the material down past his thighs. His hands returned to grip at her waist, fingers digging into her skin. He was so close, so so close, but at the same time so far away.

"Tell me you want this." he breathed out, voice ragged even though they had barely said ten words to each other the whole time. Still, what he said sent a thrill up her spine. She had forgotten how utterly sexy it was whenever he checked in with her - having been with so many past partners before him who just assumed. And even though he was using this as a way to let some anger out, he wasn't about to force her to do anything she didn't want to.

"I do, Steve, please." she thrust her hips out toward him, or tried to since he still had a tight hold of them, "I need you." she practically begged, so desperate for him. It had been so long. Too long. His eyes somehow darkened even more at the words, how utterly  _wrecked_  she sounded because of him. And he hadn't even gotten started yet.

Bracing one hand on the wall beside her head, the other harshly yanked one of her legs up so that it wrapped around her waist. With the better angle, he didn't hesitate to align himself with her or even pause before slamming into her. She let out a sharp gasp at the feeling, one hand going to grip his bicep, the other against the wall to steady herself.

There was no introductory slow roll of his hips, or the casual rhythm he started with. No, he started off rough and fast. He slammed into her over and over with such force that while she was grateful he hadn't picked the table or the counter, she was sure she was about to go through the wall itself. Not that Steve really cared, only focused on keeping his brutal pace.

Desperate to be both closer to him and not to go through the wall, Q tried to lean in more to him. The motion made him go deeper inside of her, which caused her to moan at the feeling. Not wanting her to have any control, he quickly removed his hand from the wall and lifted her off her feet as if she were as light as a feather.

The new angle made both of them groan in pleasure. Their chests were pressed together, both messily kissing each other as Steve continued to thrust into her. Having to balance the weight of Q and keep the pace, he stumbled around the main area of the apartment. It turned into quick flashes of moments, just like in the movies. Bumping into various furniture before toppling over the arm of the couch where Q ended up on top, but only for a moment; the force and the uneven weight distribution sent them tumbling off the couch. Landing on the floor with a thump, Steve was quick to resume his aggressive thrusts. The floor had nothing to stop her from moving against the floorboards, but she was grateful for the friction.

They were blindly egging each other on with no real method to their madness, just wanting to both make the other as angry as possible, and also let out some anger they had toward the other, because the payoff was intoxicating. Never had they been together like this before, in this raw and almost animalistic way. Hard, rough kisses were shared with desperate need for more. They were greedy and selfish. In an effort to fuel the anger inside both of them, harsh teases were whispered into ears, which only resulted in rough reactions. Pulse points were rediscovered and used to their advantages. At one point, Q pressed down on the bandage on Steve's side, making him hiss in pain and slam into her even harder. He retaliated by letting his hand wrap around her throat, squeezing ever so slightly to let her know he  _could,_ which sent a shiver down Q's spine. They needed the release, both physically and emotionally - literally and figuratively.

"Feeling better?" Q murmured, hands softly running through Steve's hair. Unlike how she had roughly tugged and pulled on it moments earlier. A soft laugh exited his body, even though he didn't open his mouth.

"You could say that." he responded while picking up his head from her shoulder. She gave him a small smile before removing her hand from his head and getting to her feet. Watching her walk off to the bathroom, he let his eyes trace over her thigh tattoo, having only caught glimpses of it while they were fucking.

Once she was finished, she returned to the living room area, grabbing a few pillows from the couch. Letting them fall to the floor beside him, he took one and put it behind his head while she settled down next to him. Both of them adjusted themselves on the floor so that they were facing each other. They were closer than they had been when they finished earlier. So much so that it was easy for her to lean in to press a soft kiss to his lips. He responded with the same amount of tenderness before pulling back.

Their eyes met for a moment, his hand then coming up to caress the side of her face. Her eyes searched his for that tiny speck of green she loved so much, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips when she found it. At the smile, he brought her in for another kiss, and felt her shift her body closer to his as if the minimal space between them was too much. His arm wrapped around her waist while one of her legs slithered in between his.

Soft, gentle kisses were shared, both going a bit more slowly and taking the time to really drink in what was happening between them. Steve guided Q onto her back while he shifted so he was caging her in between his legs. Breaking off the kisses, he couldn't help but smile when she chased after his departed lips, clearly wanting more. He gave in rather easily, capturing her lips once more. Too much time had already passed since their last ones.

With things going slower than before, not as driven by pure anger and passion, they were allowed to notice things previously overlooked. Especially in terms of how sensitive Q had become. Every time Steve touched her, it was like she was being touched for the first time. Senses were much more heightened than before, allowing her to be fully consumed by Steve and what was happening right in front of her. Neurons firing with all the possibilities of how he could touch her, what would happen  _when_  he touched her and how it would feel. Q's body was on fire, and Steve was both the cause of it and the only one who could put it out.

Each drag of his fingers over her skin sent small crackles of electricity over her body. When his lips found hers, she pulled him deeper as if to quench a thirst she didn't know she had. She arched into his touch, body begging for more. When she peaked, fireworks exploded in her head, letting her experience something so unique and beautiful that all the times before paled in comparison. Yet, he continued to gently push her to the edge once more. Goosebumps ran wild across her skin, lighting up wherever he touched and wherever she knew he was  _going_  to touch. Her limbs were dissolving under every touch or kiss. He was so gentle with her, exploring her body like he had when it was his first time. And to her, it felt like it was.

Much more careful with her than he was during their first round, Steve took the time to relearn her body. Mostly because it had drastically changed in a way he never could've expected. The heightened sensitivity helped him satisfy her in a way he never had been able to before, drawing noises he had never heard from her and feeling her cling to him like she was trying to anchor herself to him.

But he was almost distracted by the physical changes her body went through as well. The softness of her was replaced by sharp edges and muscle gained. Her eyes were sharp, like she was waiting for some sort of threat to arise even despite their current situation. There were scars that had to have come from something more painful than the guilt he was feeling at the sight of them. The angry red ones around her wrists, the ones dotting her arms like a starry night sky, all of them proof that she had been a victim. No, a survivor.

And he did his best to remind her of that, handling her in a much more gentle way than he had before. Praising her body like the goddess she was to him, over and over as many times as she would let him. And she did the same in return. Reminding him of all the experience she had over him, which wasn't a bad thing in this situation. She made him feel wanted,  _needed_  even, between the way she touched him, held him and kissed him.

"Are you sure, Q?" he asked quietly, hesitating for a moment. He knew her senses were overloaded, could tell just by how she was reacting to simple, smaller touches. If this would be too much, he wouldn't - even if he really wanted to.

"Yes," she breathed out, hips rolling up as if that would help satiate the need deep inside of her, "Please, I want you." she kept her eyes on his, using a different verb than she had earlier. Need vs. want. Two very different things. And one obviously made him feel better than the other. Giving him a ghost of a smile, her hand came to rest on his cheek. He leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering shut as he shifted so he was inside of her again.

Tilting her head back at the feeling left her neck exposed, which Steve took advantage of in pressing soft kisses up her throat. His hand snaked up her arm so he could intertwine his fingers with hers. Anchoring them together, he slowly rolled his hips against her with purpose instead of the frantic rhythm he had prior. He listened to Q's sighs of pleasure, adjusting himself when necessary and getting new reactions out of her each time.

This wasn't  _just_  fucking. This was something more. An apology, in their quiet murmurings between kisses. A love letter, written in lingering kisses and soft touches. A lesson, in knowing that each were different than the year and a half before but eager to take their time in re-learning what it was like to be together again. Anger may have fueled the first round, but the second round was spurred on by a love lost.

The moments after they finished were always Q's favorite moments. The quiet bliss that surrounded them like a bubble, keeping them safe from the world around them. Unlike how it was after their first round, the two were still physically connected as intimately as any two people could be. Their hearts beat at the same pace, having both been given the same adrenaline rush that came after. Chests rose and fell, the only way she could ever truly  _lift_  Steve - even if it was just slightly. Soft touches of skin against skin in praise and reverence, becoming even more intense what with Q's new hyper-sensitivity. Limbs intertwined like a beautiful puzzle that didn't look like it fit together but somehow it did.

"I love you." Q murmured without thinking. She could swear she heard Steve's heart skip a beat at the phrase. He picked his head up from where he had it buried in the crook of her neck so he could meet her eyes.

"I love you too." Steve responded, pushing some hair out of her face, "But that doesn't change anything." he added on seriously, " _This_ doesn't change anything." he pointed glanced at where they were lying together on the floor. Q would say it didn't hurt to hear, but it did. A pang shot through her heart at the reminder. She knew that a few rounds of sex wouldn't change anything, but a small part of her wished that it did.

"I know." she swallowed back the lump in her throat, "I know." she tried to give him a strong smile but it fell a bit flat.

"We still have things we need to talk about." he kept his hand on the side of her face, thumb circling her cheek. She nodded, hoping her body wouldn't act on the emotions that were beginning to bubble up.

"I know." she repeated herself, taking in a breath before continuing, "And I know you have  _a lot_ of questions." he scoffed a bit because that was an understatement, "But I can't answer all of them."

"Can't? Or won't?" he asked with a bit of an eyebrow raise. She bit her bottom lip, giving him the answer he didn't want but was expecting. With a deep sigh, he rolled off of her. The moment between them had ended. The bubble had popped. The real world was crashing down around them once more.

"I will." she promised, reaching out for him. Her fingers danced lightly over the hickey she hadn't realized she'd given him during their first round. Like they were in middle school again. The angry splotch was going to fade in a few hours, but at that moment, she let herself trace over the edges, "Just give me some more time, okay?" he sighed, but didn't push her away. While he felt as though he had given her more than enough time, she clearly disagreed. But they had already fought enough for one day.

"So what now?" he changed the subject as a rock began to form in his stomach. He didn't know what else there was for the two of them to do if they weren't going to have the conversations he wanted to have. That they  _needed_  to have.

"Well…" she trailed off for a moment, absentmindedly dragging her fingers over his skin, "I've never been to Croatia before and apparently there's a lot to do here…" again, she trailed off, looking at him with raised eyebrows, "I was hoping you'd want to stick around for a bit." he glanced over at her. Face wearing a hopeful expression that he hadn't seen in a long while, a part of him thought it looked out of place among the dark circles under her eyes and the red tinge on her cheeks. But it was also one he could never deny.

He knew he should leave. Should get back to the States, not only because of the Ultron thing, but also because Q had made it clear that they weren't going to have certain conversations. So why waste his time? Though going back to the States meant leaving Q. And who knew when they would see each other again.

"If you want me to." he found himself saying, putting the ball in her court. A small, happy smile broke out across her features. She couldn't remember the last time she had genuinely felt this happy. It had been a long while since she even had a reason to smile like that. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach upon realizing that the smile was because of him.

"I do." she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck.

"Then I'll stick around for a bit." he used her phrase which made her grin again. Then she moved closer to press her lips against his in a loving kiss.

At least they'd be together for a little bit longer.

* * *

_A/N: Just a chapter of pure sex haha I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it! And now they're gonna be hanging out for a bit! Yay! Who knows what's gonna come of this..._

_Please don't hesitate to leave me your thoughts and concerns! I love reading all of your reviews. They truly do mean the world to me so thank you, thank you, thank you!_


	75. vacation

Steve couldn't remember the last time he had taken a vacation. Hell, he wasn't sure he had ever taken one to begin with. Not since he was defrosted at least. And even before he went into the ice, the only true vacation he had gone on was with Bucky's family to Coney Island one summer. But that was only for a day and a half.

A few days had passed since he had agreed to stay in Croatia with Q. And despite everything that had happened between them - all the lies and secrets and what not, they were having a really nice time together. It was relaxing, as a vacation should be. There wasn't a graph or a chart in sight. There weren't any sudden missions or ops that needed his attention. The Avengers commitments that usually took precedence over their alone time together were ignored. It was just the two of them. Alone, in a country far enough away from the Avengers and whatever it was Q was doing. No interruptions at all. Just the two of them.

While there were two seperate beds in the apartment, they ended up sleeping together in the same one. Mostly out of habit, partly out of making up for lost time. Both intimately and otherwise. Though it was different than the time before. Before, she would be the first one asleep while Steve would lie awake for a few hours. Now, it took both of them an equal amount of time to let sleep take them, almost for the same reasons. Both for fear of nightmares coming to haunt, but for Q there was a noise in her brain that wouldn't quiet, which she tried to explain to him. He couldn't understand it, but it didn't stop him from staying up with her, lightly tracing patterns across her skin so her brain would focus on something else until she fell asleep. Physical white noise.

Falling asleep in each other's arms was a familiar comfort, though now Steve was much more careful when wrapping his arms around her; thanks to Q's newly discovered sensitivity, one small touch would be enough to wake her. Waking up in the morning to find Q still slumbering somewhat peacefully next to him was a calming reminder that she hadn't ducked away in the middle of the night, left him again without an explanation. Sometimes, he woke up to find her staring at him, a tell tale sign that she had woken up in the middle of the night from a nightmare he didn't know about - and didn't know  _what_  about, but didn't dare move from her spot in case he woke up too. She knew where his mind would immediately go.

The early morning light backlit her almost every time they woke up together. Casting her in an almost angelic light that sharply contrasted the serious, almost fearful look on her face. He would watch her eyes search his as if she was looking for something important that only was able to be found in his eyes. When she found whatever she was looking for, her entire body would relax. Almost as if it were a reminder that they were still there. Together. And it wasn't a trick.

The days were spent doing various pre-planned activities together. Though there weren't any graphs or charts, there certainly was a folder. Or two. He had seen them on the table in the dining area the first morning of their "vacation" while she was in the shower.

"I can't believe you made us schedules." he commented once she had joined him in the main area. She tried not to smile at the sight of him holding up one of the schedules she had came up with while planning.

"Really? You can't?" she asked back with a raise of her eyebrows. The corners of his lips twitched, his stance relaxing almost immediately with a hint of their familiar banter.

"No, of course I  _can_." he backtracked, glancing at the schedule again, "I just didn't think you  _would."_ a warmth blossomed behind his sternum at the sight of all the things she had planned for them to do together. Even before he had agreed to stay with her.

"Well, I did." she answered matter of factly before moving over to peck a kiss to his cheek, "And we better get our asses in gear if we're gonna make the bus to the vineyard."

"Jar." he responded out of habit, but instead of cringing like he had when he said it in battle, he glanced over his shoulder with a smirk as he saw Q roll her eyes.

The beautiful thing about Croatia, beside the country itself, was that no one knew who he was. Sure, they knew who Captain America was. That was made clear by the similar graffiti he saw in Sokovia that called him a socialist. But no one knew who Steve Rogers was. Making it so he could actually enjoy his time with Q doing whatever it was they were doing.

Following along with the schedule she had made them, they spent one day visiting a local vineyard. They walked through the fields and pretended to know all about wine. Mainly, they just made stuff up in an attempt to get the other to laugh. Of course, they ended up buying too many bottles from the vineyard itself, but those were easily drank throughout the remaining days.

"You come all the way from America just for a vineyard?" an older gentleman asked in lilted English after he had taken a previously requested picture of Q and Steve.

"We're big winers." Q responded with a straight face. But hearing Steve's barely concealed laugh explode from his chest almost made her break out into her own set of giggles.

There was a day they took a boat trip out to one of the surrounding islands. The boat trip would've been more than enough, but of course she took it one step further. What surprised him was when she declared they were going hiking to one of the supposedly hidden caves together.

"But you hate hiking. And exercising in general." he said, doubting her but still taking the backpack she handed over to him. He took another look at her outfit, noticing how she was dressed in what she considered appropriate hiking gear: shorts, sneakers, a button up shirt that she wore open so that he could see her bathing suit underneath and complete with two French braids in her hair and one of his baseball caps on her head. All she was missing was a bandana.

"But you don't." she pointed out, "And this is something cool that I wouldn't want to miss out on just because I hate walking uphill." she explained, making him realize that she was doing this for him no matter her personal opinions on the subject of exercise.

If her willingness to go wasn't enough of a surprise as it was, the fact that she could actually  _keep up_  was another one. Steve was certain he would end up carrying her most of the way because she would remember how much she hated physical activity and start to complain until he remedied the situation. But she stayed in step with him, and was even able to keep the conversation going without seeming out of breath in the slightest. Apparently, another side effect of the serum Hydra had given her. Though definitely not as bad as some of the other ones.

Once they made it to the secret cave - and the additional beautiful body of water that was hiding it, they set up a little picnic to enjoy. The rest of the afternoon was lounging on the rocks, swimming together (which subsequently led to splash fights), eating the snacks Q had packed and finishing off another bottle of wine from the vineyard. And when the time came to hike back down, Steve ended up carrying Q on his back just for the hell of it.

At first, there had been a silent agreement that they wouldn't talk about subjects regarding Sokovia or what Q was doing. It was better that way. No need to have their vacation be tinged with bitterness of what was done or regret of what wasn't. However, as the days passed, some things came up naturally.

"Say what's in your head." she softly prompted him one night. They had been lying in bed together, letting the after that came once they did fade away. Her forehead was resting against his, hands intertwining just as their bodies were. The windows were open, letting the curtains blow gently with the wind.

"I couldn't save someone." he admitted, voice but just a whisper. He didn't want to ruin the moment, but it was in his head. And she had asked, "In Sokovia. I mean, there were probably other...but she slipped through my fingers." he continued without adding the  _literally_  to it, "And it reminded me of when Bucky…" he trailed off again, knowing she would understand. Her free hand moved to softly caress his cheek, wiping away a tear he didn't even know escaped.

"You saved so many others, Steve." she reminded him. He nodded, knowing it was true but still knowing that trading one life was one too many. No matter how many people it saved, "And you traded your life for millions too, you know." she pointed out as if she could read his mind. Maybe she could; what with the serum and all. Who knew.

"I know." he breathed out, trying to give her a strong smile, but he could tell by the look on her face that it didn't do what he wanted it to do - end the conversation.

"We think we lost someone too." Q responded, giving him a small smile. His brow furrowed, not knowing who she was referencing. His mind immediately went to Dawson, figuring that maybe he had somehow, someway knew that he needed to go save Nat. At the thought, his heart dropped, not knowing how he would even start to comfort Q about losing her best friend. But luckily, he didn't have to yet because she continued, "One of Dawson's friends. She was helping us and went to Sokovia for...well we think to rescue Nat but..." she raised her shoulders up, "she never came back." she looked a little sad. Questions flicked through his head: why was one of Dawson's friends allowed to help, how close was she and Dawson's friend, who was this woman in the first place? But instead, he said,

"I'm sorry, Q." she gave him a sad smile with a little nod, hand continue to caress his cheek.

"Tell me about it." she lifted her chin up a bit, changing the subject so it refocused on him again and encouraging him to do something he had done countless times before. Though it had been a while since their last talk.

Still, he did. It was easy to slip right back into how they had been. He told her about how he saw the woman while the bridge was breaking off. Neither of them realizing the women in their stories were the same one. But he told Q how he sprinted as fast as he could to get to her but how gravity was faster. His grip around Q's fingers tightened as if he was demonstrating how he would've grabbed the woman if he had a second more. The silence that followed her fall, even though a war raged on behind him, had only been replicated once before. The last time he had been a second too late in catching someone before they fell.

"It doesn't erase the fact that you still tried." she repeated what she had said to him so long ago. When he had finally opened up about the day Bucky died - or when Steve believed he did. She had been right there to help him through it, just as she was at that moment.

Moving forward, he kissed her soundly. She didn't hesitate to respond, hand moving from his cheek to the back of his head as if to anchor him where he was. Fine by him; this was exactly where he wanted to be.

There were days where there was nothing on the schedule except a dinner at a nice restaurant she had found. Those days were spent either walking around town or on the beach. Neither one would admit it, but they like those days best. Holding hands while walking through the town, stopping every so often at a small store or a food cart. All parties involved were surprised by Q's ability to understand and speak Croatian and Serbian - though it did make it easier when buying things or getting food.

Wherever they walked together, there was a story waiting to be heard. Croatia was full of so much history, both of them could spend hours learning about everything that had happened. Especially considering how recent their last war was. There were so many survivors, most in worse shape than any of the men Steve had ended up leaving behind when he crashed into the ice. He could sympathize with the storytellers who had lived through the war and offered up his understanding. It wasn't much, but it was something.

With their apartment being right near the water, it was only a short bike ride to the beach. The beach was a sharp contrast to the Jersey shore both of them were used to; it wasn't as crowded with both people and pesky seagulls. And it certainly had a nicer vibe than the beach Q had been at for over a year. They raced to the water like teenagers on their summer break, ending with her jumping on his back at the last second to send both of them tumbling down into the waves. He retaliated by picking her up and tossing her a few feet away from him like she weighed nothing, only hearing her shrieks right before she hit the water.

While Q was comfy on her beach chair, Steve took to the water, giving her a nice addition to her already pretty perfect view. Beach Steve was a new Steve to her, but she wasn't going to complain about seeing him in nothing but board shorts and sunglasses they had bought from a little old lady. The Irish in him made him burn rather quick - just as she did, but if the serum was good for one thing it was quickly making sure it turned to tanness within a few hours. Despite the way he looked, she also noticed how he acted. He was much more relaxed than he had been when he first arrived. A large weight had disappeared off his shoulders, especially once he let himself enjoy the vacation that had accidentally happened. He smiled and laughed more, which was something she had missed in her time away.

If she was being honest, she hadn't felt as happy as she was in Croatia in a long time. He had not only stayed, but made an effort to participate in the different activities they had done together. Hell, he had even surprised her with a few things he had planned on his own. Even though they were miles away from home, things felt normal again. And a big part of her didn't want to leave their hidden oasis. Though she knew they would need to eventually; not even because of her, but because he still had responsibilities to take care of after everything that had happened in Sokovia.

Steve hadn't thought about Sokovia since he talked with Q about what happened with the woman on the bridge. Instead, he let himself bob in the waves, enjoying the weird balance of the ocean. There was a calmness to it, but also a danger that lurked beneath. Something that was akin to him and this life he was living. Though he didn't feel that way during the days he spent with Q in Croatia.

Instead, he felt like everything was finally in place again. The anger had faded - her actions presently proved louder than her previous ones. There hadn't been another fight between them about what had happened in the past. Nor was there a conversation about what was coming. What would happen once their vacation ended. No, they were just focused on enjoying each other's company as much as they could, knowing they'd probably never get another chance to do so - even without what had been going on before which had brought them there in the first place.

Of course, they couldn't put off the conversation forever. Same with the end of their vacation. What with both of them ignoring calls from people wondering where they were. Wanting updates or wanting to give updates. Steve still needed to take care of some Ultron things, while Q had missed messages from Dawson regarding their missing person's case. Their time in paradise was coming to a close, no matter how they tried to stop it from happening.

"You know I still want to know what you'll actually be doing." Steve broke the comfortable silence between them. There were two things she could gather from what he said. One was that it was clear he wasn't trying to start a fight. The second was how he left off the  _once you leave_. It was their decided last night in Croatia, both knowing that it had gone on long enough. And neither of them wanted to end it in a fight.

"Just so I don't think the worst." he added as an afterthought in a way to prove that he wasn't trying to get into an argument. She could understand that. She didn't want him thinking the worst either; that might lead him to continue to look for her.

The sun was setting around them, casting everything in a soft light. They had brought a blanket down to the beach, pairing it with the last bottle of wine from the vineyard and whatever food they had left in the fridge plus some treats they picked up on the way. She looked out across the water, watching the waves crash into the shore before returning to sea - only touching for the briefest of moments before separating again. It reminded her of a poem she had read once:  _Because there's nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it's sent away._

"There was this person in my family," she started, keeping her eyes on the ocean in front of them and choosing her words carefully, "who we all thought died in World War Two." the mention of the war immediately got Steve's attention, but she still kept her eyes fixated on a certain spot in front of her, "But he was actually captured by Hydra." she raised her eyebrows up while her eyes finally shifted over to Steve. He swallowed back the lump in his throat, fingers twitching around the stem of the wine glass.

"Like Bucky." he related the two. She nodded, letting out a bit of a breath,

"Yeah, exactly." she agreed, but didn't tell him that Bucky was who she was  _actually_ looking for. And technically it wasn't a lie either; she  _was_ talking about Bucky. It would be something she and Steve would argue about later. The technicalities of the situation and the lies that had been told, "And then when the data dump happened…" she trailed off, letting Steve fill in the blanks himself. She raised her shoulders up, reaching for another piece of food, "I've been trying to figure out what happened to him." she admitted with a small smile. His mouth opened in a silent question she already had the answer to, "I didn't tell you because I knew it would hit too close to home for you." she referenced Bucky without actually saying his name, "I didn't want to distract you from your responsibilities as an Avenger. You're too important to the rest of the world to deal with this just for me." she admitted, actually telling a half truth outright.

"I can help now, I want to help, Q." he offered seriously, hand sliding over to take hers. While he could understand why she didn't tell him, he didn't want her to be doing this alone. She shouldn't have to - and besides, she had become one of the most important things in his life. He'd give up the Avengers, the title, all of it, if she asked. But he knew she never would.

"I know." she gave him a small smile, "But you can't either." she shut him down, "You have to deal with Ultron, the Avengers." she reminded him of his real world responsibilities that he had been neglecting for the past several days. He wanted to argue with her, push back a bit and tell her that the rest of the team could handle it on their own. But he was a leader, and he couldn't just desert his team more than he already had.

They spent the rest of the night on the beach. Falling asleep to the sound of waves crashing against the shore. Tangled up in each other's arms as a way to keep each other warm and to be as close as possible for what was the last time for a long time. Hours later, the sun rose to wake them, but they stayed a bit longer in each other's arms. Both taking in their final moments, exchanging soft kisses, murmurs of love and gentle touches that were committed to memory for a lonely day.

"When will I see you again?" she asked, just loud enough to be heard over the waves.

"That's up to you." he pointed out, both of them knowing she was the one witholding her rather permanent location. She took in a breath, giving him a soft smile while feeling his hand slide through her hair. The salty air had turned it into a mess of knots and curls but he didn't mind at all.

"I don't know." she truthfully answered the question she had asked. There was no way to determine when they would actually be able to see each other again. And she didn't want to make any empty promises, but she could make one promise, "But I'll see you again." he gave her a smile before moving in for a sure, loving kiss.

Both of them would hold onto that promise until they saw each other again.

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_A/N: I really suck at the fluffy stuff so I'm sorry if this chapter was lame/felt like nothing more than a filler chapter. I honestly can't believe we're at 75 (!) chapters! Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing. I love you all! Please don't forget to leave your thoughts, comments or concerns! Also the poem is from Sarah Kay!_


	76. changes

Things were changing.

By the time Steve returned back to the States, he was informed that the Avengers had moved to upstate New York to what seemed to be some sort of facility. Spread across a large chunk of land by the water, he learned it was previously a Stark Industries warehouse that was used to store Stark Industries equipment, but was now the new Avengers base. According to the press conference Tony had the base was going to be used for scientific research, military training, weapons development, and the New Avengers program.

If anything, it reminded Steve of Camp Leigh and it seemed to be almost a modern day version of it. Being welcomed by recruits in uniform running drills around the outer area of the compound, to the busywork of scientists and analysts. A fuse of SHIELD and the Avengers had happened. All under Tony's command.

It took him a few days to learn the layout of the new compound. There were labs where he was subjected to post-op tests. A rather large conference room where government officials spent a full day debriefing him about Ultron and Sokovia, then another conference room where he gathered with the remaining Avengers to talk next steps. Of course, Tony had put in all the amenities he could think of; a gym, a shooting range, and even a movie theater - which Steve thought was a bit much.

He was given a room assignment, which was more like a furnished studio apartment just without a kitchen, at the end of the winding, connected compound. While his personal items had already been moved from the Avengers Tower, nothing had been unpacked. Nor did everything fit in the smaller space he now had. He spent a few days deciding what would be useful to keep and what could be put into storage. A lot of Q's stuff finally went into storage, but there was a little more of a realistic hope put on the idea that she would be returning one day, some day.

Q, much to his surprise, had helped keep that small flame of hope lit. He didn't talk to her daily, but over the course of the month after Croatia and moving into the compound, they kept in casual contact. Quick, late at night, or early morning texts were sent - always from an ever changing number, even though Steve couldn't care less about tracking her anymore, containing small life updates or brief callbacks to their time in Croatia. It wasn't the best, but it was certainly much better than the absolute radio silence he had been getting before. Though he missed her like hell, it was comforting to know she was doing okay.

Things were changing.

Throughout the month, there were meetings with the other Avengers about what had happened in Sokovia and what that meant for the team. Bruce, or rather the Hulk, was still missing after taking off in a cloaked Quinjet. Thor wanted to go on a search for the rest of the Infinity Stones. And both Tony and Clint had decided it was time to retire from the Avengers. Clint to go be a father to his newborn son and his other kids, Tony to deal with his guilt at causing the whole Ultron fiasco in the first place. Steve was expected to be surprised by one of the decisions. But he understood the guilt Tony had been harboring. He couldn't fault him for wanting a chance to make up for what he had inadvertently done.

And then there were two. As much as he wanted to take this opportunity and run with it - get out just as the others had, meet up with Q wherever she was and help her find out what happened to her family member, he knew he couldn't. He had missed his chance. He couldn't desert Nat, leave her to try to save the world on her own. Even though he knew she very well could. And if he was being honest, he needed a new distraction. There was only so much he could do while he waited for Q to come home.

With certain team members leaving, there were spaces that needed to be filled. Despite leaving, everyone was involved in the decision making process. Though there wasn't much of a decision making process to begin with; the names on the list of options were just a natural progression. The current Avengers had all interacted with, fought alongside and trusted them. It was just a matter of giving them the official invitation.

Things were changing.

Even with all the seemingly permanent changes that were happening, there were a few that ended up being for the better. Like having Q semi-back in his life again, working on their relationship and hopefully being able to move past the lies and deception to something better and stronger. Together. But there was still a good amount of time before that happened.

Overall, Steve felt better. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he needed some time away to remember how to be himself. Not Captain America, destined to save the world time and time again. Just Steve Rogers, navigating a complicated relationship with the woman he loved. The two were separate, and not always equal. But Croatia let him leave the shield behind and be with himself. And of course, it didn't hurt to have Q there either. He was in a better mindset when he came back, able to take the changes that were happening and run with them rather than just pushing them aside to deal with later.

"So are you ever going to tell me where you disappeared to after Sokovia or will I just have to make up my own theories?" Nat asked him one night while they were sitting in one of the common areas. He looked up from his phone where he had been texting Q about Sam finally joining the Avengers. Nat was looking at him expectantly, one eyebrow raised and lounging on the couch on her side. He waited a beat before raising his eyebrows and sliding down in his chair a bit.

"I went to see Q." he answered plainly, knowing it was no use to try and hide it, then taking a sip of his beer. Her eyebrow twitched a bit, giving way that she was a bit thrown off by his answer. There weren't many times he could surprise her so he took a little bit in pride in being able to.

"No shit." she was half impressed, half jealous that he had gotten to see Suit while she still hadn't heard a peep from Dawson, "How'd that come about?" she asked, wondering if he had figured out where they had been hiding out. If so, she'd be more than a little angry that he didn't tell her so she could go with him.

"She called me." he began to explain, "Told me to meet her in Croatia." he continued with the bare details, "So I did." he shrugged, taking another sip of his beer. She made a face, nodding a bit, but feeling a little hurt that Dawson didn't do the same for her.

"That's nice." she settled on, "Must've had a good time, considering you stayed for over a week." she added with a gesture of her beer and a knowing look. He laughed and shook his head, eyes finding the beer bottle label.

"It was good to see her." he nodded. Natasha made a  _mhm_  noise that meant something more than a noise of agreement. That much he could tell by the sly smirk on her face. He rolled his eyes at her, but then fell silent for a moment, "I learned what they're doing." he admitted, getting her attention. His eyes met hers and he began to repeat what Q had told him on their last day. About the family member who had been experimented on by Hydra. How she didn't want to get Steve involved because of what happened to Bucky. How she was just trying to protect him.

"Oh, God." Natasha reacted after he finished. Sure, history tended to repeat itself, but learning that both Suit and a past relative of hers had been taken and tortured by Hydra was a little too on the nose for her liking. If she had just come out with it and told both Natasha and Steve in the first place, then maybe it wouldn't have happened. They could've protected her from it, gone a different route.

Thinking he had to be privy to what Steve just told her, she could almost understand why Dawson had gone along with Suit in the first place. It didn't lessen her anger or frustration toward him in the slightest; he made it personal and made her feel like it was her fault he was leaving. Not only that, he didn't come clean and allow her the chance to offer her help. She was sure so much could've been avoided if he had.

"I know." he nodded, more solemn than he had been when he mentioned his mini-vacation with Suit, "I know…" he repeated himself, trailing off as he got lost in his own head.

While his eyes moved away from her, looking at one of the random art pieces on the wall, she let her eyes linger on his face. Since he had gotten back from his apparent rendezvous with Suit, he had looked a lot less tired. More comfortable. And weirdly a bit tanner. But there was still a sadness that lingered, one that she knew well, one that was clearly caused from missing Suit. She doubted that it helped even a little knowing what they were doing and being told that he couldn't help. All he could do was wait for her to come home - and it was clear he hadn't been given a timeframe as to when that would be happening.

While she was annoyed at Suit for stringing Steve along, Natasha wanted to at least offer her help. If only to speed up the process and get her back home so he would quit looking like a sad puppy dog. Her offer was purely for Steve's sake - and maybe a little for hers; bringing Suit home would bring Dawson home too.

The line rang once, then twice and as it continued to she had the feeling that he wasn't going to answer. At least she could leave him a voicemail. Tell him that while she didn't forgive him yet, she understood. Tell him that she could help get them whatever answers they were looking for. All they needed to do was come back. Come home. That could be enough.

" _You have two minutes."_ he answered on the final ring. Natasha immediately straightened up at the sound of his voice. It had only been a little over a month since they had last talked but it was still a bit surprising to hear.

"I'm not tracing this call." she responded, not knowing if there was a way to convince him of that. But he had answered, which meant maybe he wanted to talk to her too.

" _Sure."_ he scoffed, ever the skeptic.

"Steve told me what you and Suit are doing." she got to the point in case he really was going to hang up in the alloted time he gave her. He was quiet on the other end, clearly wanting her to explain what she knew instead of filling in the blanks. A smart move. One no doubt he had learned from her at some point, "About Suit's family member. The one from World War Two who Hydra captured." she briefly summarized what Steve had told her earlier - even though there wasn't much to begin with in the first place. "I can help, Dawson. I have friends...people I know who have connections." she corrected herself, knowing her connections weren't friends but not necessarily enemies either.

" _We're handling it on our own just fine, Nat."_ he assured her, sounding almost annoyed that she was even offering her help, " _I should get going."_

"Right, yeah, two minutes." she responded almost a bit sadly. She had tried - and failed it seemed. And so quickly too. Usually she would try and push back, convince him that they needed her help. Manipulate him in a way that he wouldn't even know he was being manipulated. But hell, it had been a little over two years since they left now. There was no convincing anymore. And after everything, he wasn't someone she wanted to manipulate. Maybe one day they could actually have a real conversation about what happened between them, but that wasn't happening then.

" _Why do you even want to help?"_ he suddenly asked out after a long moment of silence. Honestly, she had thought he had hung up. There was a beat as she debated whether or not to lie or to tell him the truth. But enough lies had been shared between them as it was.

"Because I want you two to come home. I want you two to come home  _safe_." she admitted, stressed even, as she crossed her free arm over her chest. She heard him scoff again.

" _Oh, wow, look who cares."_ he responded sarcastically, a defense mechanism that hit too close to home for once.

"Don't be a dick, Dawson." she snapped back, momentarily losing her cool. How dare he laugh in the face of her trying to show she cared about him, even despite what he did to her, "I've always wanted to help. You just didn't let me. You didn't let me in on the secret. You -" she stopped, knowing it was about to get more personal than it already had.

" _I what, Nat?_ " he asked, goading her. A part of her wanted to say what she had been about to: that it had hurt her that he had chosen Suit over her. But that meant being opening up a vulnerable part of herself with him. Something she hadn't done in a long time - the last time she had, he didn't believe her and left her. And she didn't want to come off as being someone who someone else  _wanted_ to choose. That would make her seem weaker than she wanted to.

"I would've chosen you over Steve." she settled on rather matter of factly, telling him what she meant to say without really saying what she felt. Dawson was quiet on the other end of the phone, no doubt working out the meaning behind what she said.

" _I'm sorry, Nat."_ he finally said, " _I just...Q's…"_ As he trailed off, she understood what he was trying to say. Him and Suit had a history together, one longer than she had with anyone. Bonded by certain things she couldn't relate to, but she could still feel hurt by the fact that she was his second choice.

"It's fine." she shook it off, wanting to move past her semi-vulnerable moment, "I get it." Again, Dawson was quiet. His silence didn't help at all; it unnerved her a bit since it was so out of character for him. She wanted him to tease her or make some dumb comment, but instead all she heard was,

" _I really am sorry, Nat. You need to know that."_  his voice was serious, tone level, " _I'm sorry for not involving you, you're right that was stupid."_ she never said that it was, but she was glad he had come to that conclusion on his own, " _Let me talk to Q."_ he said after a moment, " _I don't know how much help you'd be, considerin' we kinda got everything figured out here, but…"_

"Right." she bobbed her head in a nod, even though he couldn't see her, "Hey, if anything, I know those Hydra documents aren't the easiest to translate." she offered, remembering how they had to go through Hydra's old records to find out more on Strucker. The bare bones of her abilities, but something that could be of some use. If they had all the documents, maybe all she needed to do was translate them so that they could read what happened and Suit could have some sort of closure. She heard him laugh lightly and then sigh,

" _Are you offering? Cause I don't think we'd be able to afford the Black Widow." _he asked, making a smirk tug at the corner of Natasha's mouth.

"Friends and family discount." she responded, making him snort. She could practically picture him rolling his eyes.

" _Typical."_  he muttered under his breath. A small, wry grin peeked out across her face and she let the quiet between them hang for a moment before he continued, " _Thank you, though."_ he said uncharacteristically, " _I should get going."_ he added, concluding their conversation, " _But I'll let you know if we need anything or run into any trouble."_ he assured her, almost promised her, but she didn't take it that seriously.

"Okay." she straightened up a bit more, arm falling to her side. She remembered why she had called in the first place - for Steve, to try and get Suit home to him. This wasn't a personal call. There was another beat where it felt like he was going to say something else, but instead he just sighed,

" _I'll talk to you later."_ he ended before disconnecting the call.

And that was it. No decisions made, no way to know if he would actually talk to her again, or even talk to Suit about bringing Natasha in to help so everyone could get home. Just a vague, almost empty assurance.

"Who was that?" Fury's voice boomed out across the open space she had been conducting her call in. It wasn't considered a room since there was no furniture, but it was too wide to be considered just a hallway. She glanced over to see him walking toward her with a tablet in his hand, ever present leather jacket flowing out behind him.

"Agent Twenty-One." she answered matter of factly, using Dawson's old SHIELD title as she turned around and let her arms cross over her chest. He gave a huff of a laugh,

"Didn't realize you two were still  _involved_." he responded, gaining an unamused look from her before she took the tablet he was holding out to her.

"We're not." she shut him down, holding back her deep sigh, but continuing with, "You know what he's like." she summed up vaguely, not wanting to get into it.

"I do. I recruited him after all." he nodded, "But he's not the same twenty-two year old with a smartphone and a problem with authority like he was back then." Natasha met his eye, waiting for him to continue, "Though you're not the same woman who Barton brought in all those years ago either, are you?" he perked an eyebrow, "People change, Ms. Romanoff." he reminded her. She didn't agree, but didn't necessarily disagree either. Sometimes she thought she had changed, but sometimes she was reminded that she hadn't.

"Did you know then what was going to happen?" she asked, wondering his thought process behind bringing in both her and Dawson. Wondering if he somehow knew the impact the two would make on each other. If he saw the similarities between them and set a plan in motion.

"You never know." he shrugged, "You hope for the best, then make do with what you get. I got a great team." she couldn't help but smirk at that; the great team he was referencing was disbanded, scattered both before and after the events of Sokovia, leaving only her and Steve to pick up the pieces and start again. Still, the sentiment was appreciated.

"Anyway, one of our tech boys flagged that." he changed the subject, referring to the radar that was on the screen of the tablet. There was a pulsing red dot resting in the otherwise empty space, "Splashed down in the Banda Sea. Could be the Quinjet." he added, reminding Natasha that there were other problems they were still dealing with - like Bruce's disappearance, "But with Stark's stealth tech, we still can't track the damn thing." he paused while she nodded, "Probably jumped out and swam to Fiji." he added, as if that were some sort of comfort. Knowing that their teammate was relaxing on a beach while they were dealing with preparations for whatever threat came next.

"Thanks." she nodded, giving him a brief smile before tapping away at the screen to send out the information to Steve and whoever else needed to be updated. Easily shifting back into a mindset she was familiar with, comforted by, a safe one. Far away from any thoughts of Dawson or changes.

After all, she still had a job to do.

* * *

_A/N: I don't even know you guys. This chapter was...so hard to write. So I'm sorry if it sucks. Nonetheless, reviews are always appreciated._


	77. work to be done

"Well, the Vision's artificial intelligence." Steve pointed out, keeping in step with Thor and Tony. They continued their walk down the rather long outside hallway that led to the exit.

He and Thor were the only two in their quote-unquote uniforms, having just finished another talk with a few government officials about the future of the Avengers. Not everyone was happy with what they had to say - what with Tony, Thor and Clint leaving, and Bruce missing, but assurances were made that there were already replacements being trained to fill in where needed. Steve was leading an introductory training day with Nat a little bit later in the morning. For now, he was walking his friends out of the compound, having one last conversation with them until the time came where they were all together again. He wasn't sure when that was going to be.

"A machine." Tony clarified with a small gesture of his arms.

"So, it doesn't count?" he asked, looking past Thor, who had been quietly listening to the other two discuss how the Vision could lift the Mjölnir. An almost childish conversation to be having between two superheroes, but an amusing one nonetheless. Especially with how seriously they were taking it.

"No, it's not like a person lifting the hammer." Tony explained plainly, shrugging his shoulders as he did.

"Right," he swung his hand out to point across Tony, agreeing with him, "different rules for us." Steve settled on with a point back to himself.

"Nice guy. Artificial." he summed it up plainly, hearing Steve's soft thanks before Thor butted in,

"He can wield the hammer, he can keep the Mind Stone." they stopped walking for a moment, Tony and Thor sharing a look before he continued, "It's safe with the Vision. And these days, safe is in short supply." there was a beat of heavy silence that came after, letting the three think about what had happened over the past few weeks.

"But if you put the hammer in an elevator…" Steve broke the quiet, still focused on the details behind how the Mjölnir worked.

"It would still go up." Tony gestured to Steve in agreement.

"Elevator's not worthy." he raised his eyebrows and shook his head slightly, staring at a spot on the floor. During his vacation with Q, he had told the story of how he had tried - and almost managed to lift the hammer. Much to her amusement, of course, but it then delved into a discussion about what determined your worthiness and if it applied to everything or just humans. After this conversation, he'd have to give her an update.

"I'm gonna miss these little talks of ours." Thor grinned at his friends, reaching out to gently shake Tony's shoulder.

"Not if you don't leave." he answered, raising his eyebrows. As if he had any room to talk. Though Tony had stated that even though he'd be out of the Avengers, he'd still be around. Keeping an eye on things and looking for new potential additions to the team itself. After finding Wanda and Pietro, and discovering the Vision, it was clear that a whole new world was opening up around them. One that produced people who could be additions to the team, but also ones that could be potential threats. It would be smart to know who was on what side.

"I have no choice." Thor responded as he started walking toward the exit of the compound, "The Mind Stone is the fourth of the Infinity Stones to show up in the last few years. It's not a coincidence." he summarized what they had already talked about earlier when the Vision was created, "Someone has been playing an intricate game and has made pawns of us. And once all these pieces are in position…" he trailed off ominously as they stepped out into the warm spring day.

"Triple Yahtzee." Tony supplied as an answer. Even if Thor didn't understand the reference, Steve did. Whoever had the stones would win. And even if he didn't know what that meant, he knew it wouldn't be good.

"You think you can find out what's coming?" he asked, getting Thor's attention.

"I do." he answered seriously, "Besides this one," he reached out to pat Tony's chest where the arc reactor lay, "there's nothing that can't be explained." he gave them both a nod of regard before spinning his hammer and calling for the bright light that transported him back to Asgard.

"That man has no regard for lawn maintenance." Tony commented after Thor disappeared, leaving nothing but an intricate design burned into the grass where he once stood. The remaining two continued to walk away from the compound, heading to the driveway that was used to exit and enter the compound."I'm gonna miss him, though. And you're gonna miss me." he called Steve out with a point, reminding him that this was the part where they went their separate ways. Like they had in New York. Going off to take care of their own lives before the next attack came that forced them all together again. From the way Tony talked, it seemed like there wouldn't be another time they would all be forced together again.

"Maybe I should take a page out of Barton's book." Tony continued, "Build Pepper a farm, hope nobody blows it up." he clicked a button on his key fob, having his bright orange car roll up beside them.

"The simple life." he summarized for his friend. The simple life was something he had twice longed for. Once in the past with Peggy, then again with Q.

"You'll get there one day." Tony assured him, "Who knows, maybe Office Max'll come to her senses." he used one of the better nicknames he had for Q in reference to her, "You two can go live on a hill in the middle of nowhere together." he gave him an encouraging smile. Steve let out a slight laugh at the imagery.

"I'd like that." he agreed with a small nod. Living somewhere far away from the title that was bestowed upon him and not required to adhere to the rules that came with it, the responsibilities that he had been forced to take on because of it. With the woman he didn't know he was going to fall in love with, but when he did, it was almost natural to. And to have a family with her, stability. Something he had wanted before he went into the ice seventy-five years ago. Something he had lost the desire for for a few years because he thought he missed his chance. Was comfortable with the fact that he would be nothing but a lonely soldier for the rest of his life. Until he found someone who made him think that maybe he could have it again. And, God, he wanted it. He just didn't know if she wanted it with him.

"You can tap out whenever you need to, you know that, right?" Tony asked, eyes serious, "Go back to Croatia, live your life with that weird, little analyst of yours." he made it clear that he knew where Steve had gone off to after Sokovia, but not in a way that would make him defensive, just acknowledging a fact. Steve took in a deep breath and then nodded, hands settling on his belt buckle as his eyes wandered around the compound they were standing in front of.

"I know." his eyes returned to Tony's, "But there's work to be done." he added, reminding both of them of what still lay ahead. The Infinity Stones were one thing, but what mattered to him was strengthening another team to be ready for whatever came next. That way he really could "tap out" and not have any guilt around his choice.

Tony looked at him for a moment more, fiddling with his keys as he debated with himself to say something or not. Then he took in a sigh, gaze dropping and hand coming up to clasp Steve's shoulder.

"Well, have fun." he shook Steve's shoulder slightly, "Don't go too hard on the newbies. This isn't a frat house at Penn State." he reminded him with a final pat on Steve's shoulder.

"I'll keep it in mind." he nodded at his friend, then let him step by. He watched Tony climb into his car and drive away, leaving him at the compound.

A little while after, he found Natasha on one of the upper, inside decks of the compound. Her back was turned and she was clearly staring at the wall in front of her, lost in her own head. When the meeting with the government officials ended, she had slipped away and excused herself from the manly goodbyes between Thor, Tony and Steve. Quite possibly because she didn't do goodbyes; she was Russian after all.

"You wanna keep staring at the wall, or do you wanna go to work?" he called out, getting her attention. She glanced over her shoulder at him, arms crossed over her chest, "I mean, it's a pretty interesting wall." he complimented the wall in front of them, letting his eyes travel over the woodwork for a moment.

"I thought you and Tony were still gazing into each other's eyes." Nat shot back, walking over to him and clearly shaking off whatever had been plaguing her mind moments prior, "How do we look?" she asked as she fell into step next to him. He handed over the tablet Maria Hill had loaded with the profiles of the new recruits.

In all honesty, the people they had chosen to replace those who had left were complimentary to their predecessors. Rhodey, a respected servicemen, and pilot of the War Machine Armor, was almost a direct parallel to Tony. Sam, with his Falcon suit and being a known pararescue, who used evasive maneuvers to take out hostiles, was similar to Clint. The Vision, even though he was an android, harnessed the magical power of an Infinity Stone, was almost akin to Bruce in his Hulk form what with the physical durability. And of course, Wanda, with her enhanced abilities from the stone itself, made her equivalent to Thor and his godly powers.

"Well, we're not the '20s Dodgers." Steve commented, giving a reference she would hopefully understand.

"We got some hitters." she mused, swiping through the profiles as they walked to the main training area.

"They're good. They're not a team." he responded with a slight head tilt.

"Let's beat them into shape." she smirked at him before they walked through the double doors.

At their entrance, all eyes were on them. The new Avengers were all dressed in what would come to be their standard uniforms, having fittings while Steve and Nat were talking with the government officials. Rhodey let his face mask flip up so they could see his eyes. The Vision turned, his cape somehow fluttering out behind him even though there was no wind in the room. Sam came down from the rafts above, folding his wings into the jetpack on his back with ease while Wanda landed gently beside him, tendrils of red disappearing as she settled. Steve let his eyes flit from person to person, seeing how almost giddy Sam was, how determined Wanda and Rhodey were and how interested the Vision was at what was to come.

Letting out a slow breath, Steve let his Captain Voice come out, commanding the room easily.

"Avengers…" he called out before taking in a deep breath,

"Assembled." Dawson answered Q's question of what the status of their escape packs were, raising a finger up and circling it around in the air, "What about the guns?" he asked, glancing around his work station. They were doing their bi-monthly supplies check. Knowing what they had and what they didn't.

"Cleaned 'em last night." she responded as she walked around the long table they were using as their gun cleaning station. Picking up one, she made sure it was unloaded and the chamber was empty before clicking on the safety. She took two clips and handed them out to Dawson to add to one of the packs, "Can never be too careful." she reminded him, his silent question of wonder hanging in the air.

Since her return to the beach house, things had slowly gone back to normal. Or whatever their new normal was these days. She and Dawson had a long talk about their fight during the events of Sokovia and where they stood on the mission itself. Both were tired of the deadends, getting close to giving up. They wanted to go home. Q's trip to Croatia reminded her what she had given up and what was still, surprisingly, waiting for her. She didn't want to lose any more time.

So they had given themselves a due date of six months. If Bucky didn't turn up in the upcoming six months, then they would pack it in. Return to the States where both would tell Steve and Nat everything. Absolutely everything. Maybe they would help, maybe they knew something Q and Dawson didn't.

That being said, the past three months were the hardest they had ever worked in finding Bucky. The loss of Marina hit them hard; emotionally, mentally and most importantly, they were down a man. It was back to it being just the two of them, just as it had been when they started. And it felt like they were back where they started, with little to no leads at all. They were relying on months old information Q had given him from her brief interaction with Bucky after he saved her from Spencer. Though it seemed that well was drying up.

"We're good on food, good on water.  _Very_  good on alcohol." Dawson raised his eyebrows and pointedly looked at the permanently stocked bar cart. Usually Q emptied the cart within a couple weeks in an effort to deal with the mess inside her head, which was why they constantly had to stock up, but she had only gotten a few bottles in since returning from Croatia. It was a well known fact that Dawson was not good at reading people - things needed to be pretty much explicitly pointed out to him, but even he could tell that her rendezvous with Steve had a positive effect on her. And one that fueled her determination to finding Bucky, if only to get her permantanly back to Steve.

Dawson wasn't going to argue with that; the faster they found Bucky, the faster he would be able to go back to Nat. Considering the conversation they had a few months prior, he had some serious apologies to make. Which was something he never liked to do, but would for her. She deserved them. He didn't deserve her forgiveness though, he knew that much. Though it wouldn't stop him from trying to get it. Strange how things changed; before he could care less if anyone forgave him for his actions. Maybe it was the ocean air. Or whatever.

"ECHOnet?" she asked, hands settling on her hips. He glared at her for using the name he usually kept to himself. She ignored him as he moved away from his station and over to his computers, checking in on the system. It had taken a bit to rid the system of Ultron's lingering code. If anything good came from what happened in Sokovia it was Dawson being able to modify the code and use it to build a better search system for their missing person's case.

"Steady." he responded simply, knowing Q wouldn't understand all the details if he got into it. All she needed to know was that it was working. "I think we're good." he made a face, standing up straighter from behind his computer screens. She stepped over to him, walking past and giving him a high five, that turned into a low five behind her back before she stepped away.

"Nailed it." she complimented him. He let out a slight huff of a laugh before returning his attention to the keyboard. They had gotten done their check much faster than before, if only because nothing had really happened in the past three months that would've drained them of any of their supplies.

"Ever think about what we're gonna do when we get back?" he suddenly asked aloud, as if already accepting the fact that they weren't going to find Bucky in the next three months. She knew he had talked to Nat a few months before and wondered if that had anything to do with his thinly veiled impatience at finding Bucky, "Like what's going to happen to us?"

"I don't know." she lied like her brain wasn't offering up a hundred different possibilities. He scoffed at that, knowing she was lying to him, "We'll figure it out." she shrugged, reaching for a soda from the fridge, "We always do." she added.

"Always have. Always will." he sighed in agreement. She grinned at his turned back, popping the tab to her soda.

"You and me, babe." she teased slightly, enjoying the moment of levity between the two of them. These days, those moments were infrequent and didn't always last long. It reminded her of what it was like before anything ever happened. Before Sokovia, before they embarked on their adventure and way, way before Steve even entered her life. Living with Dawson for the past two years had reminded her how much they used to rely on and support each other. And apparently still did, despite what had changed in their lives. Sure they got into fights, said things they didn't mean, but at the end of the day, there wasn't anything the other wouldn't do to protect the other. They were each other's best friends.

Her phone vibrating against the counter got her attention. Stepping over, she flipped open the burner phone to see a text from Steve popping up. A response to the lead she had given him about a mark he and the new Avengers were trying to track down. The mark was also her ex-co-workers-with-benefits, but that was beside the point. During one of their brief phone calls, he had mentioned how Rumlow - now going by Crossbones, had been causing a whole lot of chaos in the wake of what happened at the Triskelion.

No one had been paying much attention to him at first because, one, no one realized he had survived, and two, Ultron had been a much bigger threat. Though it seemed Rumlow had become an independent terrorist, setting out onto his path to make anyone involved in his downfall suffer the pain and loss he endured. As if he had lost anything comparatively to Steve or Q. Thinking back, it was good she had dumped him.

When learning about Rumlow's new identity and new mission in life, a part of her had been a little nervous that he would come after her. After all, she had an intimate relationship with him and then ended it rather abruptly with no warning at all. Her brain was quick to offer up that he never saw her as a threat, and wouldn't in the present either. Plus, he probably had no idea what happened to her after the Congress hearings.

Even if she was technically safe, security measures were doubled on the beach house. Neither of them went anywhere without the other and there was always had a small, trackable device in the sole of their shoes. Just in case. A ping had been set up on ECHOnet to alert with any news that came up on Crossbones - mainstream or otherwise and then passed along to Steve. Some was useful. Most wasn't, considering he hadn't been caught yet.

Texting back a response to Steve, she heard the familiar  _ting!_  of an ECHOnet alert come from the terminal Dawson had just vacated moments before. She didn't bother to look up from her phone, thinking it was nothing more than an update or something techy that she wouldn't understand.

"Oh my God." he breathed out, "Q!" he yelled out, making her jump.

"I'm literally standing right behind you." she sighed, gesturing to his turned back, "What?" she crossed over to the terminal, standing over him and looking at the screens.

"We got him." the pride in Dawson's voice couldn't be masked. He tapped his fingers against a few screens and pulled up a map of an unfamiliar city in a country Q had never been to before. Not that it mattered; there was a pulsing red dot in a small section of it, clearly the only thing that did.

"Gotcha, motherfucker." he breathed out with a smirk.

Bucky Barnes was a ghost story no more.

* * *

_A/N: DUN DUN DUN! You know I love a good cliffhanger haha so hopefully you're okay with this one! I thought it was about time our pals find Bucky lol what do you think? Let me know your thoughts! I always appreciate your reviews so don't hesitate to leave a couple._

_Also, FYI, I'll be traveling for the next three weeks so I'll try to update, but I don't know if it'll actually happen. I'm gonna try tho! As always, thank you for reading - I love you all!_


	78. just in case

A lot had happened since the day he pulled Captain America,  _Steve_ , from the river. The Potomac. Washington D.C. The day he turned his back on what he believed was the only world he ever knew. A world where he existed only to be used and abused. The day he started to realize who he was, what he had been made into, what he had done - and what he  _hadn't_  done.

In coming to terms with the life he had unknowingly, unwillingly, lived for the past seventy years, he found out more than he could've ever possibly guessed. Seventy years. A length of time he had a rough time wrapping his head around. How could he have possibly lived for seventy years without realizing it? And he was still the same age he had last known himself to be.

It almost became like the stages of grief, but if only for the life that had been taken from him.

First there was the confusion: how had he ended up where he was, why had he done these terrible things, who had done this to him? Which led him to discovering what  _exactly_ had happened to him, and how he had ended up becoming the monster he was. The Smithsoian. Captain America. Steve Rogers. Best friend.  _The only Howling Commando to give his life for Captain America._ Steve. Had he given his life if he was still alive? Yes. No. Maybe. Hydra took his life. Made him a new one.  _Fist of Hydra._

There were two lives he had lived - and now he was currently living a third. The first was when he was the Man. The boy. The one with a duty to serve his country. The second was when he was the Asset. The monster. The one with a duty to serve the cause. The two lives still existed inside of him, struggling for dominance. He wasn't sure which one was winning. Back in his body, but stuck in his head. While it felt like the Man had the most control, the Asset lingered, nipping at the back of his mind, encouraging him to do things, reminding him of what he had done - what he was good at.

For the past seventy years, all he had known was violence. All he had known was destruction and chaos and pain. So much pain. All at the hands of some very specific people. Those he would never forget, no matter how much he tried. Giving in a bit to the Asset, he made sure they didn't forget him either. They wanted a monster after all.  _Fist of Hydra._

While he had been intent on destroying the lives of those who had destroyed his, it was only a short term solution. That, and the longer he went on, the riskier it became. Someone would notice. Someone would find him. He'd lose his freedom. He never had freedom before. Or at least, he couldn't remember the last time he had. He didn't want to cause any more harm. Not even to people who deserved it. The Man reminded him of that. Devil and Angel on his shoulder. Each vying for control. He had to find a middle ground. Had to find himself again. Or whatever version of himself he could be in this time, after everything.

It was the woman he saved. The woman who looked like his younger sister, but wasn't his younger sister. Rebecca. Curls and short skirts that made their mother tsk. Not Rebecca. Barely standing on her own. The logical part of his brain reminded him every time that that wasn't possible. It was just a weird coincidence. Though it was enough to shake him from whatever stage he was in at that point. Remind him that he had the opportunity to be someone different. Himself again. Or as close as he could get to the Man he was before.

A lot had happened after he saved the woman. He wasn't sure why he chose Bucharest, Romania. There were plenty of places in the world he could go. But there were also plenty of places he  _couldn't_ go. Either out of fear of being found out or because there was a past life he couldn't go back to. Bucharest was the in between. Busy, but not too busy. Big enough that he could blend in, small enough where he wasn't overwhelmed. Not very quiet, but not very loud either, which was okay. Quiet meant there was something wrong.

His apartment was small, but big enough for him. He had chosen it based on the location of both the building and the room itself. Multiple exit points. Just in case. That was the motto he repeated to himself daily.  _Just in case_. It explained why he had the apartment set up like he did. Why he kept his go-bag under the floorboards behind the kitchen island, which was right by an exit. His go-bag that had the important things. A journal he kept that was filled with the important stuff he remembered over the last two years. Two knives, a few protein bars, an empty water bottle. Just in case. The windows were covered in newspaper as makeshift curtains. No one could see in, but he could see out. Safer that way. Just in case.

For the first few months in Romania, he kept to himself. Didn't leave the apartment unless he needed more protein bars, or to do a perimeter check in the evening hours after the busyness of the streets had slowed. Just in case. He could blend in easily - leaning on tactics offered up by the Asset: wearing subdued tones, a hat to cover his face and making sure there was always gloves on his hands so no one would notice the metal glint of his arm. The literal fist used for Hydra. He spent most of his days trying to pull lost memories to the forefront of his mind, writing them down as they came to him. Mostly in bits and pieces, but it was better than nothing. There were plenty of sleepless nights - being plagued by nightmares of the life he had been forced to live and the things he had done. Splitting headaches happened almost every day, spurned on by him trying to remember the Man he once was. Hydra had made sure that was next to impossible, but it didn't stop him from trying.

Maybe he wasn't  _living,_ per say. Existing. That was the word. He was existing. Going through the motions of what a life should be. The bare minimum at least. It didn't sound like much, but compared to the alternative...he was okay with existing.

As time went on, he started to do a bit more. Still keeping the  _just in case_ motto in mind, he started small. Picking up a job at the docks at night so that he could continue to pay for his apartment and the protein bars he survived on - no need for anyone to become suspicious of him being in the building. He didn't mind his job at the docks; no one asked any questions, it was easy to blend in with the other men there, and it allowed him to get outside once in a while. If anything, it reminded him of one of the many jobs he did back in New York. Where he was born. Grew up. Before the war. Though if he remembered correctly (doubtful), he hadn't had to do many jobs to begin with; his family was better off than most. Really the only reason he worked was to keep an eye on Steve. Captain America. His friend. Brother. Who's father died and his mother was sick. His mother. Sarah.

There were good days and bad days when it came to what he remembered vs. what he couldn't. There was a day where he remembered training Steve at Goldie's Boxing Gym in Brooklyn when he announced he wanted to sign up for the draft. But a couple hours later, he couldn't remember his own mother's name. It was frustrating to say the least. And left him with nothing but headaches and a sour taste in his mouth.

Which was why he had picked up meditation. Unwillingly, to be clear. His Howling Commando brothers would give him so much shit if they found out how he sat on the floor in the middle of his apartment for an hour, focusing on his breathing. But it had happened. Again, accidentally. He had heard the tape through the wall from his neighbor's apartment. They had never met, but sometimes he heard the music she played or the baking show she watched.

One day, he heard another voice on the other side, underlaid by what seemed to be a calming score. He listened to the instructor's directions, not realizing he was following along until the recording ended. And weirdly, he felt a little better. Calmer. More focused. The Asset was silent.

Meditation wasn't a fix it all sort of thing, but it was a good thing to pick up. Just in case. Afterwards, his head wasn't so muddled and it allowed him to be more aware of what was going on around him. It just helped. Helped him get through the headaches. Brought him out of the panic that came after waking from the nightmares. Helped him center himself. Reminded himself that he was in his own skin, had full control of himself. He was free.

Though deep down, he knew he didn't deserve the freedom he had gotten. Not after everything he had done. He didn't deserve whatever sort of semblance of life he had began to build for himself in Bucharest. It all felt too good to be true. And it was bound to be taken away from him one day. Some day.

But for the most part, he tried to cherish the quiet, simple existence he had ended up building for himself. Just in case it was ever threatened or taken away from him. Just in case someone decided he had enough freedom and needed to pay for what he had done. He could understand if/when that happened.

So he kept to his routine: an overnight shift at the docks, going to the corner store for his protein bars, getting back to his apartment to do a security check before either doing some meditation or writing down whatever he had been able to remember in his journal, then trying to get some sleep. He kept to himself, not really talking to anyone unless it was necessary, but that was okay. Less of a risk if anything were to go sideways. He was beginning to remember more, but not everything. Sometimes several would come all at once, sometimes there would be nothing at all.

Most of what he did remember revolved around Steve. Captain America. He had apparently been an important part of the life he had before. His notebooks were filled with small notes of memories that felt like dreams. Never could he imagine being a person who went out dancing, or someone who would sit at a baseball game for a long period of time.

Sometimes he began to doubt his own mind. What if all his memories were just implanted by Hydra? The way he'd seen technology advance, he had no doubts that they could've done something like that. He only wished there was a way to corroborate the memories inside his head. Someone to tell him that it was all true.

Though there was no one he could reach out to. Not only did he not know anyone - he was certain none of the people he remembered were even alive, but that would put everything at risk. Again, not that there was much of an everything to begin with, but still. No one could know where he was.

And he had thought he had done everything possible to make sure that didn't happen. To make sure he could live out the rest of his days in a quiet peace. No longer wanting to hurt anyone or cause any more pain. He was wrong.

He didn't know he was wrong until he saw them. Well, her. He saw her first. He saw her a couple of times actually, but the pieces took a while to click into place. At first he thought he was just being paranoid. The Asset was threatened, the Man was paranoid. Before he realized who she was, he clocked her over several days - trying and failing to blend in. And while the Asset continued to hiss that this woman was a threat, that this woman needed to be taken care of, he blocked it out. Because there was something familiar about her.

Tire swing.

Spinning skirts.

_Ow! That's too tight!_

A butterfly hairpin.

 _Rebecca_.

No, not Rebecca. The woman from the man's phone. The woman he had saved. The woman from the riverbank who was wearing his uniform. His uniform from the Howling Commandos. The war. With Steve. Not Rebecca knew Steve. Someone else. She had found him. How had she found him? Why was she looking for him? She had someone with her. A man. Who was he? Not Captain America. Not Steve. Someone else. He didn't look happy.

They were sitting at a table at a restaurant that was on the route he took home from the docks. Though on the opposite side of the street. Neither of them noticed him though (they never did); he took a hard turn to go down one of the alleyways - quickly realizing he needed an alternate route. He couldn't let them see him until he knew why they were here. What did they want from him? He hadn't done anything wrong. He had  _saved_  her. Not Rebecca. He had saved her. Why was she here?

He managed to get back to his apartment without any other roadblocks. Though he kept checking over his shoulder to see if he had been followed. By her or by anyone else he hadn't seen before. He hadn't.

Setting to work, he tried to trace back his steps to how she could've possibly found him. Flipping through his journals, trying to jog a memory he had forgotten and tried to remind himself what else had happened the day he had saved her. There wasn't anything he could think of that could've brought her to him.

Then his eyes landed on the dresser drawer he kept the phone that belonged to the man in the apartment. The man who was working for Hydra. The man who had been keeping the woman hostage. Not Rebecca.

With two quick steps, he yanked the dresser drawer opened so hard that it flung out of the dresser itself. He paid no mind to it though, reaching in for the small phone-like device, then letting the drawer clatter to the ground. The device was light in his hand, but felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. Heavy with the implications that came from taking it.

In retrospect, he probably never should've taken the device. There was no reason he needed it - hell, he wasn't even sure what  _it_  was. At first look, there was a tug toward the back of his head, but not one that usually came whenever he could remember something about his past. No, this one came from the Asset. The Asset had recognized this device. Whispering in his ear at how useful it could be, how it could be used to their advantage. If only he gave in. He had tried to ignore it; he wasn't the Asset anymore. He could figure it out for himself.

Once he had figured out a way to power up the device, he found message exchanges to numbers that weren't saved. Like sending an electronic, instant letter. Those and various photos of random places and things - including Not Rebecca. A photo album that could fit in the palm of his hand. The advancements in technology were amazing.

Wanting to know how exactly the device worked, he took to taking it apart. The pieces had been spread out across his floor in a careful way; he didn't want to lose any of them. Most of it looked like it was right out of Howard Stark's lab. Howard Stark. Scientist. Inventor. Hover cars. The Modern Marvels of Tomorrow. Where Steve had tried to sign up for the draft again. The last time he had seen Steve until...he couldn't remember when he saw Steve again. Though he wondered if Howard had ever gotten close to creating something like the device he had laid out on his floor.

Now, as it rested in his hand, he realized how dangerous the device had been. He must've done something wrong when he put it back together. Forgotten to do one thing or triggered something within the device that sent out some sort of alert. God, he was so stupid. The Asset agreed. The Man did too. Never were they ever in agreement. He should've never taken the device to begin with.

With a satisfying crunch, his metal hand wrapped around the gadget and crushed it easily. He stared at the pieces that remained, wanting to feel some sort of relief, but it never came. The fingers of his hand twitched with a human-like quality that was almost ironic considering everything. He had been so careful. He had flown under the radar, hadn't done anything to raise any sort of interest. And all it had taken was some sort of stupid modern technology to get him caught. He should've known better.

Acting on instinct, he turned from the dresser to cross quickly to the kitchen. He pried up the floorboards behind the island where his go-bag was hidden. Where was he going again? Croatia. Croatia. The Croatia plan had been in his back pocket for this specific reason. Not because of Not Rebecca specifically, but because he had been found out. He didn't know why she was in Bucharest - and he wasn't going to risk anything. If she found him, he wouldn't have his freedom anymore.  _Fist of Hydra_. The Asset was thrilled at the idea of being used again, the Man was terrified of losing control again.  _He_  was terrified.

But before he could make it out one of the exit points, there was a careful knock on his door. Tentative. Like whoever was on the other side was nervous of what they were going to find. And he hesitated. He fucking hesitated.

"Bucky?" an unfamiliar, yet familiar voice called out in the same careful way her knock had been. A name he hadn't been called in a long time. No, that wasn't right. The man on the bridge called him that too.  _Bucky?_ He knew him. How did he know him again?

Just like he had on the bridge, he hesitated at the name. Even though he knew he shouldn't. He knew he should just leave. Pretend he was never there. Start over again. But he didn't.

This was it. His quiet, simple existence was over. He had been found. And he was certain this wasn't going to end well.

Still, he found himself moving toward the door.

* * *

_A/N: Long time no update! I'm sorry it took forever and I know this isn't too long of one to begin with, but I hope it's okay! I love/hate writing Bucky so please LMK your thoughts/reactions/comments. I appreciate you all!_


	79. two minutes

Out of all the places in the world, she never expected Bucky to end up in a place like Bucharest, Romania. Though maybe that was the point. No one would even think to look for him there. A perfect place to hide and live without fear of someone finding him out. Except they had. And it was by the grace of modern technology. Something they should've counted more on from the beginning.

They had ended up just wasting time in trying to navigate their way through his muddled and tragic past. All the tactics Q had used in her SHIELD days weren't applicable in this situation. How could they be? Bucky was unlike any mark she had ever had to deal with; what with the being brainwashed, turned into a modern killing machine that could be twisted and molded into whatever Hydra needed him to be whenever they needed him to be it, then somehow breaking out of that and saving someone he had been told to kill. And then he disappeared.

There were too many variables - some she had failed to take into account when moving forward with her plan. She was following the Soldier's path, thinking of him like a threat, when she should've been trying to understand the Man who had been left behind. Understand who Bucky had become after that day on the riverbank.

Hindsight  _was_  always twenty-twenty. And it's not like it mattered; in the long run they had found him. Tracked him down to Bucharest. All because of Spencer's phone. That goddamn asshole was still somehow helping her even from beyond the grave. It had been a while since they had figured out Bucky had taken Spencer's phone. Something they weren't even a hundred percent sure of until the ping came through.

Somehow, someway, Bucky had managed to turn on the bluetooth on Spencer's phone which then connected to a nearby beacon. The phone then sent out a location ping to the beacon, activating itself after not being active for however long. Having an alert set on Spencer's phone, just in case, Dawson was able to pick up the source, tracking it back to where it came from.

From there, it was easy enough to figure out where Bucky actually was. Or at least that's what Dawson told her.

For the first several days, they just watched. Kept their distance and watched. The last thing Q wanted to do was set off any alarms. Or do anything to let him know that he had been found. She wasn't sure how he'd react yet. And it had taken them this long to get to him. She couldn't lose him again. Not after everything she went through to find him.

So they watched. Watched Bucky live his, what turned out to be a, rather boring life. It was clear he had a routine: spending his days in his apartment, venturing out when necessary to get food and other necessities, and working nights at the docks. A simple life that Q would've never pegged him to live. Though, again, maybe that was the point.

And then he saw them.

If it was any other time, any time before her time spent in the Hydra facility, Q would've missed it. Missed his double take and then immediate turn into the alleyway that was away from them. But she wasn't allowed to miss anything anymore. Her head made sure of that. So when she saw Bucky duck into the alleyway across the street from them, she knew they had been found out.

"We gotta go." she muttered out to Dawson, getting up from her seat while he watched her with his sandwich half in his mouth. She gathered up their things, slinging her messenger bag over her shoulder.

"Like right now?" he asked without removing the sandwich from his mouth. She gave him a serious look, which made him slump down a bit. Getting up, with the sandwich still in his mouth and being held there by his hand, he let Q toss a few notes onto the table and then followed her out of the small restaurant they had been eating at - waiting for Bucky to walk by as he usually did after his shift at the docks.

"Hey, woah, slow down," he caught up with her as they walked out of the restaurant and onto the street, still eating his sandwich as he did, "Where the hell are we going?"

"He spotted us. Bucky. I mean, he probably spotted us before but this...he bolted." she quickly explained while they headed down the street.

"Okay, and...?" he asked, wanting more of an explanation and an answer to his first question. She gestured with her hands as she talked, faster than usual, always faster than usual.

"If he saw us, recognized us, or me at least, then he probably thinks we're some sort of threat. Come to take him down or something, I don't know. I just know he's probably gonna disappear again. And we can't let that happen." she reminded him with a pointed look. Finishing off his sandwich, he nodded and followed after her.

Of course, she had spent the last several days analyzing all the different ways their first meeting could go down. It was impossible not to think about. She knew how she hoped it would go, but she also knew how it could go. Her brain didn't stop offering up all the different scenarios of what would happen once she made contact with him. It could bad or worse or terrible or maybe okay. And the reaction she just saw was one that she was prepared for. Not the worst one that she had visualized but certainly not the best one either. They just needed to get to him before he left.

Thankfully, the elevator was working in the apartment building Bucky had been living in for however long. It pulled them up to the floor he was on: one that was high enough to get a good view of the city, but low enough that there were still strategic exit points he could get to rather safely. A smart move. Just in case something happened. She figured they were the "something else" in this situation.

Once off the elevator, Q led them down the hallway to where Bucky's apartment was - knowing where it was based off the location ping from the cell phone. That and now she that she had been watching him for the past several days, she could understand his modus operandi a bit better. But she wondered if even  _he_  knew what his modus operandi was these days. Still, she stood outside the door for a moment, listening to the movement inside the apartment before lifting her hand to knock. Tentative, not wanting to scare the man on the other side anymore than she already had. She waited a moment before calling out to him,

"Bucky?" she hoped she came off as non-threatening as possible. She wasn't there to hurt him. She just wanted answers. She had spent so long, gave up so much, to find him. She just hoped it was worth it.

There was a long beat of silence that came after. One that would make anyone else think the apartment on the other side of the door was empty. But it wasn't. She knew it wasn't. Again, she knocked, a bit harder this time, but not hard enough to cause alarm.

"Bucky, I...we...we're not...we just want to talk." she tried to explain herself as concisely as possible, "Please, I…" she trailed off, not sure how to sum up everything she had found out and what she had done and been through to get to him. So she waited. Waited for him to respond.

"I don't think he's gonna let you in, Q." Dawson pointed out the obvious. She sent a glare at him from over her shoulder. Now was not the time.

"Bucky, my name is Q." she started to try a different tactic based on their last two interactions, "You saved me in Moldova. Before that you saw me on the riverbank in D.C. after you saved," she swallowed, not realizing she was beginning to get choked up, "Steve...Steve Rogers. And you called me Rebecca. Who is your sister, right? Your younger sister." she paused, glancing down and seeing the shadow beneath the door move at the mention of Rebecca, "Rebecca, she was my grandmother. Your sister was my grandmother." she connected the dots for him, hoping he would understand what she was trying to say. She waited another moment. The shadow hadn't moved.

Keeping one hand on the door, she went into her messenger bag to pull out the Ziploc bag she had kept a few of her grandmother's things in - the important stuff she had found in the basement of her parents: the diary, the letters, a few photos. She gingerly took one photo of Rebecca out of the bag, falling into a crouch outside the door and carefully sliding it under the space between the door and the floor.

"That's her, isn't it?" she asked after the photo disappeared under the door. The shadow didn't move to pick up the photo. Another long moment of silence passed. She glanced over her shoulder at Dawson who was giving her an  _I told you so_ look. This wasn't working.

"I think we should go." he concluded, "He obviously doesn't want us here." he pointed out with a gesture to the door. She sighed, not ready to give up yet, "Listen, we found him. That was the goal, right? You wanted to track him down and make sure he was okay. And he is." again, another gesture at the door. Pushing herself to her feet, she watched Dawson's eyes follow her as she pulled herself to her full height. She could tell he was nervous about what was going on, about what Bucky could do to them if he so chose to. He wanted to leave. She didn't blame him.

"No," she disagreed with him and shook her head, "No, no we didn't go through...everything just to be discouraged by a closed door."

"Pretty sure it's locked too." he pointed out with a face. She gave him an unamused look, "Q, come on. We've wasted enough time on this. On him. And you've...we need to figure out what Hydra did to you.  _Really_  did to you. Not just guesses based on your weirdly vast knowledge of Rogers." she rolled her eyes at him, "We can get you back to New York, get you checked out by people who actually have doctorate degrees and some real life experience with this shit." he made his case, telling her that his main concern was her. Always surprising to hear, but still nice to know he cared, "C'mon, Q." he tried to convince her.

On the other side of the door, he listened quietly as the two argued about whether or not they were going to leave. He didn't understand their relationship. Were they friends? Something more? Friends didn't fight all the time. Sure, he and Steve had their arguments but the man in the pair seemed annoyed at every word. They couldn't be something more. It didn't make sense. Though the man seemed to care for her own preservation much more than she did. Not Rebecca. Q. The man had called her Q. That couldn't be her name. It was just a letter. Had to be a nickname. Like Becca. Rebecca was Becca. Sometimes. Unless she was in trouble. Or if a guy came to pick her up for a dance. Steve and he went dancing with ladies he had met at the store or the movies.

The picture she had slid under his door was staring up at him. Or rather, Rebecca's face was staring up at him. He stared back, letting his heartbeat fill his ears rhythmically. He had seen this picture before. Been there when it gotten taken. The one-hour photo studio on the corner of Fairfax. His mother had them get portraits every year on their birthday. When was his birthday? Did he have a birthday? He had to. He was alive, right? The face of the young woman, his sister, stared up at him. Not smiling. Why wasn't she smiling? Wasn't she happy? Serious. Because of the photo. His sister. Rebecca. The woman on the other side of the door had a photo of Rebecca. How did she get it? Said it was her grandmother. Rebecca didn't have kids. Wasn't married. Right?

The mention of Hydra got his attention. The hairs on the back of his neck rose, his heartbeat began to speed up, why did they mention Hydra. The Asset was clawing at the back of his mind, desperate to be let out to take care of the two on the other side of the door. The Man was setting off alarms, wanting him to run far, far away. If they were Hydra… He listened close to what followed, wondering if they were about to give away their plan. He could use that against them, use it to get the upper hand and get away. Before he was taken. Before his freedom was taken.

Except they weren't Hydra. That much was clear. A flash of the busy street in Moldova came to the forefront of his mind. Connecting Hydra to the woman on the other side of the door. Not Rebecca. Q. She had been captured by Hydra. Like him. History repeats itself. The marks on her arms. The burns on her temples. The familiar way her eyes flicked around the scenery like she was trying to take everything in all at once.  _Fist of Hydra_. What did they do to her? Sure he had seen her on the street every so often, but those were just glimpses. And the state he had left her in in the middle of Moldova…

 _Look after your sister._ His mother's voice suddenly echoed in his head. Suddenly enough to make his heart clench. To make him have to take a step back from the door. He couldn't remember the last time he had heard his mother's voice. What was her name again? His eyes flicked to the photo on the ground. His sister. Then his gaze shifted to the door. The woman on the other side had said his sister was her grandmother. Which meant they were family. Right? When was the last time he had a family?

Maybe that's why he saved her. He couldn't remember in the moment. When she had asked him if he was going to kill her. He would never kill her. Though he couldn't remember why he said that. It was just a feeling. A feeling he couldn't put his finger on. Maybe this was the reason.  _Look after your sister._

The digits of his metal hand twitched at the thought. All he had to do was reach out and open the door. He didn't have to let them in. Just let them see. And let himself see too.

The door opened a crack, which made Dawson's eyes flick over her shoulder and got Q to turn to see what was going on. At the sight of a slightly opened door, Q took a step closer, thinking Bucky was inviting them in. But the door stopped at just the crack: big enough to let them see each other, small enough so that there was still a good amount of door between them.

Through the open space, he stared at Rebecca's eyes. No. Not Rebecca. Q. Her name was Q. But she had Rebecca's eyes. Soft brown. Though hers looked much more tired than Rebecca's ever had. Dark circles under them, like she hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in a long time. Him either.

"You have two minutes." he spoke quickly and quietly, not wanting to startle her or let anyone else know what was going on outside his apartment. No need for someone like his neighbor to come out to investigate. At the sound of his voice, she paused a bit, as if not realizing he sounded like he did. Blinking, she returned her attention to him, eyes locking on his.

"Do you know who I am?" she asked carefully. Without the barrier of the door, her voice sounded different. Deeper, raspy like she was sick or hadn't had anything to drink in a while. She looked so hopeful, but he was still playing the defense, just in case. This was risky enough as it was.

"No." he lied to her plainly, pointedly. Though it wasn't quite a lie. He didn't  _technically_ know who she was. Just who she looked like. Who she reminded him of. His sister. Rebecca. He noticed her features shift a bit as if she were disappointed by his answer.

"Okay, well, I don't know if you heard what I said while the door was closed -"

"I heard it." he cut her off rather brusquely, "What do you want from me?" he got straight to the point, his grip on the door tightening as he waited for her answer.

"To talk to you." she raised her eyebrows up, clearly feeling as if that was obvious, "Get to know you I mean, I had no idea about any of this until - I've been trying to find you for the last two and a half years. I - I gave up  _everything_. I -"

"I didn't ask you to do that." he got defensive, not understanding why this woman would spend so much time tracking him down. Not understanding why she wanted to get to know him. And frankly, she was beginning to give him a headache.

"Your sister was my grandmother. Rebecca." she ignored his tone, stepping closer. He wanted to pull away, slam the door in her face but the name stopped him. Rebecca. His sister. She had said it before but it felt different this time, "Which makes me your grand-niece. Family" she pointed out before pausing to let it sink in. The word  _family_ echoed for a moment, "Isn't there any part of you that wants to get to know me too?" she asked after a moment. He stared at her, not saying anything, not responding to her question. She was a stranger. This could all be a lie. A trick. They had said something about Hydra. What was it again? Were they a part of Hydra? No...but it was something else.

"I think your two minutes are up." he answered with a slight lift of his chin.

"Actually she has fifteen seconds left." the man standing behind Q piped up. To be frank, he had forgotten the man was there. But at the reminder, he sent a withering glare in his direction and let out a small huff of annoyance. His eyes shifted down, noticing she was holding something in her hands. Some sort of plastic bag that had a familiar looking notebook in it. A diary. A birthday present. From him. To his sister. Rebecca. It was more used than he remembered, but the gold design was still etched into the cover. A flower of some sort. He couldn't remember the name.

"Where did you get that?" he asked with a pointed jut of his chin to the diary in the bag. Her eyes followed his before she answered,

"From my parents. Your nephew's house." she reached into the bag and carefully pulled it out. She hesitated for a moment before extending it out to him. Almost like a peace offering. He hesitated just as she had then took it with his flesh hand, gingerly holding it as if he was afraid it would explode. Part of him really was.

"We're staying at an AirBnB a few blocks away." she told him for some reason. He didn't even know what an AirBnB was. Some sort of housing, he assumed, since she said they were staying there, "I...All I want is to get to know you." she gave him what could be considered an almost embarrassed smile.

"I don't think I'm the person you think I am." he responded, not wanting her to get her hopes up that he would be something he wasn't. He wasn't worth getting to know. Especially after everything.

"You're family." she told him, as if that was enough.

And maybe it was.

* * *

_A/N: She found him! They met! Talked a lil too! I hope you guys liked this chapter and are still interested in this story. Feel free to let me know your thoughts. I love you all!_


	80. the diary

_God, it's so annoying when -_

_I can't help but think that -_

_There was a sale on -_

_Saw the new -_

_Another day, another fight Bucky and Steve got into, meaning I, once again, had to sew up Bucky's clothes. Either stores need to use better material or Bucky needs to learn how to sew. I usually don't mind it, but I can do more than just patch up Steve or sew up the rips in Bucky's pants. I admire them for standing up for others, but my God -_

He flipped to another page in the diary, landing on another random page and reading a few sentences to see if he remembered anything, then moving on. The same thing he had been doing since Q - the woman from Moldova - handed him the diary several days before. Sometimes he remembered things, most times he didn't. And he always had a headache afterwards.

He wasn't sure if the diary was helping him or not. The words on the page created scenes in his head that felt so real but he wasn't sure if he really remembered what Rebecca - his sister - had written or if he was just imagining it and his brain convinced him that was a memory. Like hearing a story too many times over, then believing you were there even though you weren't.

The struggle to differentiate between what was actually lived and what wasn't forced him to take long breaks in between his rotations through the diary. Just so his brain could sift through everything he read and try to pull memories instead of creating new ones based on the scenes written in the pages of his sister's diary. The diary he gave her as a Christmas gift. Or a birthday gift. Some sort of gift. He gave his sister a diary as a gift. His sister Rebecca. Who wrote about sales on dresses, and seeing the  _Wizard of Oz_ and being amazed by the colors.

_Mother would never let me wear them, but the heels were so sparkly and red! Maybe I could take a pair of old heels and paint them red. The craft store probably has some sort of sequins._

_She paused in writing out her thoughts, hearing her bedroom door open, "Bucky, get out!" she yelled out without looking at the door. She knew it was her older brother; he was the only one who never knocked._

" _What're you writing about?" he asked in response, ignoring her and walking into her room, "How much of a crush ya got now on those fuckin' munchkins from the Wizard of Oz?" she made a face of disgust at his teasings, folding her arms over her diary so he couldn't see what she was doing. He ambled over to her desk, seemingly and uncharacteristically casual. He was planning something, she could tell._

" _Go away, Bucky." she lifted her chin up at him, annoyed by his presence. She was in the middle of something after all. Smirking at her, he paused for a moment before his hand snapped out and grabbed her diary out from under her arms. She let out a surprised yelp as he darted away from her._

" _Bucky!" she cried out, voice hitting an octave as she quickly jumped out of her desk chair and went after her, "Give it back, you jerk!" she ran down the hall after him. His delighted laughter bounced off the walls of the apartment and he skirted through an open doorway and into his bedroom. Of course, she followed, sliding in after him. He jumped onto his bed, turning to a random page in the diary and reading it aloud,_

" _Yesterday, Imogen and I left school early to go see Sunrise -" he let out a sharp gasp as Rebecca climbed up onto the bed with him, "Rebecca Elizabeth Barnes!" he chastised her as she reached for the diary,_

" _Give it back!" she cried out, but he held it over his head, making her jump up to try and get it._

" _I can't believe you!" he continued to mock-scold her, "Imagine if Ma was to find out about this! You! Skippin' school!" she glared at him, but he looked so amused._

_Wanting nothing more than to wipe that stupid smirk off his face, she shoved him in the chest. He swayed, the mattress shifting under the movement and throwing him off balance enough to make him lower his arm. Rebecca grabbed the diary from his hand, shoving him again as he laughed._

" _You know that's not very lady-like of ya, Becs." he teased her with a tilt of his head. Repeating something their mother always told her: that she must act like a lady to be treated like a lady. But she was certain that didn't apply to stupid, annoying older brothers._

" _Fuck you." she snapped out with another glare and push to his chest. He laughed loudly, clearly enjoying the reaction he had gotten out of his sister. He really did love getting her riled up._

 _Once back in her room - with the door_ _shut_   _\- she returned back to her desk. She opened her diary back to the page she was writing on before she was oh so rudely interrupted and scribbled in all caps: BUCKY BARNES IS THE_ _WORST_   _BROTHER IN ALL OF BROOKLYN!_

Gently running his flesh thumb over the hard letters of the phrase in the diary, he let his mind wander a bit. Away from the memory that caused his sister - Rebecca - to write that about him. Away from the past he sometimes forgot he lived. Into the present he was currently living.

A few weeks ago, he had accepted the quiet, half life he was then destined to live. The one where he was alone, not bothering anyone, semi-atoning for his sins. Part of that atonement was living with only bits and pieces of himself. A cross of the man he used to be and the monster he was created into. Never fully either ever again.

Then Q showed up. Q. Just a letter. A woman. Not Rebecca. His grand-niece.  _Family_. She gave him the diary. His sister's diary that was full of stories of the past he lived as the man he was. Before the war, before the Asset. Q gave him the diary, and then left. She disappeared. He hadn't seen her in the last several days. Granted, he hadn't left his apartment very much since then. But even when he did, there was no sign of her or the annoyed man who accompanied her everywhere. His name was...it didn't matter. Neither of them were around.

The slip of paper that she had given him with an address scribbled onto it was sticking out of the diary. He started using it as a bookmark so that he wouldn't lose it. The address was where the woman who gave him the diary was staying. Who was she again?

Q decided she didn't like Bucharest. And she knew Dawson didn't either - though he was a lot more vocal about it than she was. He complained constantly about something that was wrong with the flat they were renting, or about the city itself, or even just about the situation they were in.

"...at least when we were in the Ukraine we had a nice view of the beach!" he finished his rant of the day rather loudly with a gesture at the windows. Rubbing at her temples, she tried to release some of the pressure in her head that was not helped by Dawson's constant rants and raves. She knew he was covering up his anxieties about the situation they were in, but it was getting to be a little much for her.

"I need some air." she announced with no regard to responding to one of his many daily outbursts. It wasn't even worth it anymore. She got up from the couch and headed into her bedroom, still hearing him talk even though she had left the room. Sometimes he just needed to hear his own voice.

"I mean, what are we even doing here anymore, Q?" he called out to her, but she knew better than to answer, "We found him, gave him your grandmother's journal, and now...what? We're just waiting around for him to finish reading it?" he asked with a wave of his butterknife, half focused on making his sandwich. Q still didn't respond, pulling on a sweatshirt and grabbing the two noise cancelling wireless earbuds Dawson had made for her so she wasn't as overwhelmed by various noises and whatnot in busy environments.

"Is he gonna do like a book report on it or something?" he made himself laugh at the thought, cutting his sandwich in half and looking up as Q came back out to the main area of the apartment, "Seriously, Q. What are we doing here?" he asked a very valid question, but one she didn't have an answer for yet. Or, the one answer she did have seemed too lame and too selfish. All she wanted to do was get to know Bucky; she thought she was so close to her grandmother and yet there was an entire life she didn't know about. She wanted to make a connection.

"And what about Rogers?" Dawson finally got her attention. Her head flicked up and she was met with a raised eyebrow expression, "I mean, isn't this guy his best friend or whatever? Are you gonna tell him you found him?" she fiddled with the earbud, taking a second to let her brain sift through all the different ways to answer his questions and the outcomes that would come from it.

"Not until I know he's okay." she settled on, meeting his eye, "I can't - if - Bucky is too important to Steve. Finding out he was alive was enough of a shock as it was." she reminded him, "I need to make sure Bucky isn't a threat or anything like that."

"So you want to make sure a hundred year old, brainwashed by Hydra, killing machine is mentally sound before telling Rogers." Dawson summed up with a wave of his sandwich. Hearing her plan aloud sounded a bit ridiculous considering the details that accompanied the men they were discussing, but it was true. Q made a face, eyebrows raising a bit.

"Yeah, basically." she agreed. He rolled his eyes and she took the reaction as her opportunity to exit the scene, "I'm gonna go take a walk. Do you need anything?" she asked, slipping in one earbud and waiting until he shook his head to slip in the other.

The pink noise playlist she had downloaded played in her earbuds, drowning out the other sounds of the city that would no doubt distract her even more than she was already as she walked through the city. These days, the sounds were the worst part of being outside. She didn't mind the people; she was used to being aware of the people around her- though now it was turned up times a thousand. Now, for some reason, she could pick out the motive behind the actions almost immediately. She knew why the man was holding the broom the way he was; his arthritis was acting up. The woman sitting at the corner cafe was looking around herself for her table mate, hoping she hadn't been stood up.

Even with her earbuds in, cancelling out the sounds around her, she could still sense that something was off. She may have been walking alone, but she wasn't alone. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, sending little electric shocks to her brain which in turn told her she was in danger. She didn't want to give into the paranoia that was beginning to creep in. What kind of threat could possibly be around? A question her brain was too quick to offer up a slew of answers to: a mugger, Hydra, Rumlow, Hydra, a scorned person of some sort, Hydra, Hydra.

Giving in, she stopped in her tracks and quickly spun around only to come face to face with Bucky. She jumped in surprise, hand going to her chest as if to stop her heart from leaping out behind her ribcage. It wasn't a threat. Just a skillfully trained ex-Hydra assassin.

"Jesus!" she breathed out, closing her eyes for a moment as the alarms in her head continued to cry out in a panic, not understanding what was going on. Her hand moved from her chest to take out the earbuds, the noises of the city crashing over her like a tsunami wave. She winced, gritting her teeth together and trying to focus on what was in front of her.

"My name isn't Jesus." Bucky's low voice responded, giving her something to lock onto and then making her grin a bit. She opened her eyes, tucking her earbuds into her hoodie pocket and then pushing down her hood.

"I know." she responded, "You just scared me." she took in a breath, noticing how he shuffled back from her, putting distance between them. A look of regret flashed over his face,

"I'm sorry." he apologized quietly, "I should've...I saw you walking and you...are the woman from Moldova. Rebecca." he tried to connect the dots and explain his reasoning to her. She gave her a small smile and shook her head,

"Q." she reminded him. His brow furrowed a bit, but then he nodded.

"Q." he repeated her, "Q, right. You gave me an address. That's where I was going when I saw you walking." he explained shortly. She nodded, understanding what he was saying. She went to respond, when a loud blaring of a car horn surprised her enough to make her flinch and look over in the direction that it came from. He followed her gaze, having gotten used to the flow of traffic in Bucharest and the angry drivers that came with it.

The car was long gone, but still her eyes stayed on the spot where the noise came from. Then flicked around the general area, lingering on every person who was walking down the sidewalk. He studied her: her fingernails dug into her palms, her jaw was clenched, and her weight shifted from one foot to the other. The environment was affecting her - overwhelming her. He reached out to put a hand on her arm, knowing the touch would pull her attention to him.

"There's a small cafe on the corner." he spoke slowly, enunciating every word and making sure his voice was at level she could hear but wasn't too loud. A gentle tug of her arm was enough to indicate they were going to start walking. He kept an eye on her the entire time, watching as she tried to work through whatever was going on inside her head.

Thankfully, the cafe wasn't that busy. As much as he wanted to sit outside just because of safety reasons, the woman at the front took them inside the cafe. At least the woman sat them by the window. If necessary, he could use the chair to break the glass, or hopefully be able to see a threat before anything happened. He picked something random off the menu in front of him, not really listening to what the woman across from him ordered, instead taking the chance to do a sweep of the inside of the cafe, taking into account the people that were there and how they were reacting to the two of them. It didn't look like anyone cared about them. Good.

His attention returned to the woman sitting across from him. Q. Not Rebecca. Q. Q gave him the diary. He was going to the address she had given him to talk about the diary. The diary was his sister's. She was calmer than she had been outside. As much as he didn't like being inside, it was better for her to be inside. Less things to be distracted by. Her fidgeting had stopped, the blinking had slowed and her jaw had unclenched. Better.

"I'm sorry." Q mumbled out, catching sight of Bucky's expression. He was looking at her rather intently, reminding her that she had a mini freak out on the street. She reached for her water glass and taking a healthy sip of it, "I got lost in my head for a second."

"I understand." he nodded, shifting a bit in his seat while his metal hand opened and closed instinctively.

A strange feeling stirred behind his sternum when he realized he had helped her. It had been a long time since he had helped anyone - at least for the right reasons. It was a good feeling.

A blush colored her cheeks in slight embarrassment; she didn't mean to go into whatever weird mode she constantly found herself in whenever she was overwhelmed by her surroundings. But Bucky seemed to understand what was going on. That was a nice feeling.

He watched her take another sip of the glass of water, thinking it was a bold move of her. Someone could've poisoned the water without her knowing. He was sure he'd be fine, thanks to the endless Hydra torture he went through to make sure he was immune to any and all poisons, but he was slightly worried about her,

"It's okay." she said, voice calm. His eyes slid back to her face, seeing how she was looking at him intently, "The water." she tapped her finger against the glass as an explanation. Somehow she knew what he was thinking.

At first he wanted to be angry at himself; he had to be more careful about his reactions to things, but then he realized that she was trying to help him, just as he helped her. When was the last time someone had helped him?

Sitting across from each other, it was clear that they could both gain something from the other. Besides learning about her grandmother's past Q could help Bucky relearn about himself, and how to live again instead of just existing. Stop having to double guess everything or think there was a constant danger.

Besides learning about himself and about her - Q - he could teach her how to deal with the side effects of whatever Hydra did to her. How to deal with the constant noise inside her head and focus on one thing at a time. So she could actually live a good life like she deserved.

They could work through it together.

* * *

_A/N: Felt like this chapter was a little...meh lol I know what I want to do, but I'm not sure you guys are into it/this story anymore. I hope that's just my own insecurities, but please let me know! I love hearing all your thoughts. I'm sorry if it's boring!_


	81. taking it day by day

"Is everything alright, dear?" her calm voice pulled him from his thoughts. Eyes moving away from the horizon in front of them, he turned his head so he could look at her instead. A semi-embarrassed blush colored his cheeks at the realization that he had been caught daydreaming. If you could really call what he was thinking about  _daydreaming_. More like reliving a moment from the past. He ducked his head down and let out a slight laugh.

"Yeah, sorry, just thinking." he told her and she tsked.

"You do too much of that." she lightly chastised, lifting her teacup to her lips before reconsidering her statement, "But also not enough." he grinned at her, twisting the ceramic coffee cup around in his hand.

"Heard that before, Peg." he sighed, leaning back in his chair, "Mostly from you." she gave him a brief smile, her eyes twinkling a bit as she took a sip of her tea.

Today was a good day. Which was a miracle in Steve's eyes. There hadn't been many of those in a long time. The last good day he had with Peggy was the same day he got coffee with Sharon almost three years before. Every time since, when he came back to D.C. to visit Peggy, it had been painfully obvious that she was just getting worse. Limited time. A never ending theme in his life — especially with Peggy.

But that day he came to find her actually out of bed, up and moving around. Excited and happy to see him. She had gotten her nurse to bring them tea, coffee and a few pastries to eat out on the small balcony she had. Since the weather was nice, despite the cold spring they had been dealing with, and they could properly enjoy each other's company instead of her being stuck in a bed and him sitting by like they were in a hospital rather than assisted living.

Another dead end in the hunt for Rumlow had brought him back to D.C. The tip he had gotten from Q hadn't led anywhere helpful, but he couldn't fault her for trying. At least they were talking again. And even, on a rare occasion, Skyping. Talking about the new Avengers, or whatever sort of thing Dawson had a compliant about. Never about her missing person's case or his search for Bucky. Still, it was the small steps - and actually having contact with her was one big small step.

So while the rest of the team went their separate ways: Sam to the VA to attend a meeting, Natasha to check in on how the Triskelion clean-up was going, and Wanda at the safehouse, Steve had decided it was the perfect opportunity to visit an old friend. Which turned out to be exactly what he needed.

"What were you thinking about?" she asked after a moment, "Something good, I hope." he gave her a quick grin from behind his coffee cup.

"That time you tried to introduce the Commandos to English tea." he reminded her, "After one of the Hydra raids, we had all come back to base and found our coffee supply was gone, so you brought out tea." Peggy smiled a bit as she remembered what he was talking about,

"Yes, right and it was Dum Dum who told me that tea was just  _wet leaves_." Steve laughed, ducking his head down to hide his smile, "And Barnes forced everyone to act incredibly proper - dramatically so." he glanced at her with a grin, remembering how straight Bucky sat, pinky out and mocking Peggy's accent. All in good fun, of course, but it didn't stop her from gently slapping him upside the head.

"I think that was the first - and last, time any of them had tea." he told her with a slight furrow of his eyebrows.

"I'm not surprised." she sighed, relaxing into her chair a bit, "How are the men doing now that the war is over?" she asked. It took a beat for Steve to realize she was serious - and had forgotten that almost all of them were dead.

"Uh," he cleared his throat, "good," he played along with her, not wanting to trigger anything or ruin their mood, "Good, all back home with their families, living very boring lives and avoiding tea." she smiled at his joke, and he tried to do the same - ignoring the dread in his stomach and the sadness in his heart at knowing the truth.

"There's nothing boring about a normal life, Steve." she reminded him with a knowing look, "Could be good for you." he hesitated before nodding in agreement, not really wanting to get into it again. He had already had a conversation about the topic with Tony several months before.

Their visit ended shortly after the coffee and tea had been finished. He gave her a kiss on the cheek and told her he'd visit again when he could. She squeezed his hand, reminded him that she was happy - both in general and for him, and told him to be careful on his next mission with the Commandos. He promised her that he would.

When he arrived back at the safehouse, Wanda was still the only one there. He spotted her curled up on the corner of the couch, intently watching the weather channel. How that could be entertaining, he didn't know. Leaning against the entryway to the living room area, he crossed his arms over his chest,

"How's the five-day look?" he asked, getting her attention. She glanced over her shoulder at him and gave him a small, amused smile.

"There's another cold front moving in." she responded, her accent lilting her words, before turning off the television. He laughed to himself, pushing off the wall and stepping into the living room area. Readjusting her position on the couch, she turned so she was fully facing him. Her hair fell in soft curls — no doubt from Nat and she had changed out of the bulky, muted clothes she had worn while they did recon and was now wearing a flowy tanktop under an oversized cable knit cardigan and a pair of cotton shorts.

"Have you eaten?" he asked with raised eyebrows as he draped his jacket over the opposite arm of the couch.

"Not since this morning." she pulled down the corners of her mouth and shook her head, eyes suddenly leaving his face to look at her lap where she was picking off an invisible piece of lint, "I'm okay." she added as he realized it was close to dinnertime. He watched her for a moment, trying to understand the shift in her disposition. But he was no Q, and the only thing he could come up with is that it had something to do with the time she had spent in the Hydra research base. He must've stuck his foot in his mouth...again. Something he seemed to do a lot with her.

"C'mon." he moved past it, picking up his jacket again, "Let's get out of here and go get something to eat." he shrugged on his jacket while she studied him skeptically, "You forget that I lived here for almost a full year. I know some pretty good places." he tried to convince her, but didn't want to force her to come with him. She hesitated for a moment before getting up from the couch, only to walk into her room and shut the door. Steve tried not to be too disappointed or take it personally.

It was easy with Sam and Nat; he was already friends with both of them before they started on their mission to find Rumlow. He knew how to talk to both of them, how to act around them and what to share vs. what not to share. With Wanda, it was difficult. Sure, even though she was still learning how to be an Avenger, she was a great addition to the team. But Steve had made no progress in forming any sort of bond with her outside of the Avengers. She tended to close herself off and not be a super willing participant in any of the group activities they did outside of chasing down leads.

Still dealing with the loss of her brother, the newfound hero status she had and just adjusting to being able to live her life again, it was clear she was going through a lot. And it was enough to make it hard for everyone involved; they didn't know how to act around her or what to say or do versus what not to. Hell, it almost reminded him of himself when he first came out of the ice, and then two years later when he came to D.C. Now, he understood how hard it had been for Q. And he probably owed her an apology or two for being so stubborn and hard to get through to.

Though, thankfully, he learned a thing or two from all the time Q spent trying to chip away at the wall he had up. And if he remembered correctly, food was one of the main things she used to connect with him. So goddamn it if he wasn't going to try similar tactics with Wanda. He would just bring her back something from the deli.

Much to his surprise, Wanda's bedroom door reopened a few moments later. She had traded her leggings for a pair of ripped jeans and had a pair of combat boots on her feet. Slipping her arms into a light jacket, she walked over to Steve with a nervous smile.

"Ready?" she asked him with a slight eyebrow raise. He fought the smile on his face, nodding once and gesturing to the door.

"After you." he responded, letting her go first.

Being in D.C. without Q always felt a bit wrong. He always half-expected her to pop up somewhere, coming out of a coffee shop with a hot chocolate or heading into a record store. Some things he didn't even think about until they were at the place where the memory happened. Walking past the bar where Q tried to audition for the USO show during their bar tour, or the hot dog cart that Q had bought him food from on Fourth of July. Like a muscle memory.

"When did you live here?" Wanda asked at one point, breaking the silence and pulling him from his memories.

"A couple years after the Battle of New York. Moved here to work with SHIELD." he told her, slipping his hands into his coat pockets. Wanda wrinkled up her nose in disgust at the mention of SHIELD. An understandable response, considering they had done nothing for Sokovia during their time of war, and had only spurred on Wanda and Pietro's decision to sign up for von Strucker's experiments. He decided not to comment on her reaction, he couldn't defend SHIELD for what they didn't do, nor did he want to apologize for their lack of response either.

"Used to come here almost every day." he nodded at the deli they were coming up on, "Mostly because it was right down the street from my apartment." he pointed down the block at where his building was, knowing they had passed Q's a moment before. He remembered seeing her rush out of it countless times, looking both put together and frazzled at the same time. "Best sandwiches in the city." he gave Wanda a grin as they got to the door. Holding it open for her, he let her go in first.

Tentatively, she explored the store while he went up to the counter to get in the sandwich line. He glanced over his shoulder to see her eyeing the display of chips before selecting a bag of spicy ones.

"Mr. Steve!" Albert greeted him loudly, happily. Steve turned back to face the older man with a smile of his own.

"Hi, Al." he responded, stepping up to the counter, "How are you?" he asked, getting a nod from the other man,

"Could be better, but could also be worse." he told him with a shrug of his shoulders and a  _ehh_  noise. Steve let out a little laugh; he understood the sentiments, "But what about you? Heard about what happened in Sokovia. Scary stuff." he tsked and gave him a knowing look. While Albert had never flat out told Steve that he knew who he  _really_ was, it was clear that the man knew. He appreciated the discretion and also the concern.

"Taking it day by day." he gave him a reassuring smile, "Could always be worse, right?" the man nodded, pointing at him a bit,

"That it could, that it could." he agreed before moving on down to start on Steve's sandwich.

"Uh, two today." Steve told him, holding up two fingers and effectively getting Albert's attention. His eyebrows rose and his face broke out into a smile. Steve could see where his mind went and quickly explained, "It's for a friend of mine." he watched as Albert's smile fell a bit and immediately felt bad, "Q's still out of town. But we're...trying." he settled on, knowing it was super vague, but hopefully enough to reassure Albert that he hadn't moved on from his favorite customer.

"Well, that's good, kid." Albert told him after a moment, "Trying is the most important thing. The right thing. Hell, I had to try a lot with Liesel." he laughed to himself, remembering something about his late wife that he didn't expand on, "Good for you, kid. For both of you." he nodded firmly, then went back to making up the sandwiches for Steve.

After paying for both of the sandwiches, drinks, and the chips Wanda picked out, the two of them left the deli. He led her to a small grassy area that was right across the street from his old apartment building that had benches and spaces to sit and eat. He and Q would sit out there whenever the weather was nice - she doing her crossword and he reading the paper.

"You know the owner?" Wanda asked as they sat down on one of the benches. He nodded, unwrapping his sandwich as he did so,

"Yeah, well, through Q." he amended, "She took me there the first day I got to the city, and we just kept going." he explained, glancing over at Wanda, "You haven't met her yet, but I think you two would get along." he gave her an encouraging smile. He had mentioned Wanda to Q on a few occasions and Q seemed sympathetic to the things Wanda had gone through. He hoped that when they met, Q would be a good influence on Wanda - shared trauma and all that.

"She's your girlfriend, yes?" she asked, studying him a bit, as if trying to connect the dots. He hesitated for a moment, cracking open his water bottle so he had something to do with his hands,

"It's...complicated." he settled on with a heavy sigh.

"How so?" she asked curiously. He glanced at her, not really wanting to get into it, but she was clearly expecting an answer.

"Uh, we were together for a bit, but then she left, I didn't hear from her for over a year and then she came back only to leave again. And now we're...trying to figure it out." he summarized briefly, then taking a sip of his water, "She's been through a lot." he paused, "We both have." he added, fiddling with the cap. Wanda watched him for a moment, a small ball of guilt forming in her stomach. While she may have already apologized for what she had done in the refinery in South Africa, what she had made Steve and the other Avengers live through, and proved that she was on their side, she hadn't told him about what she did for von Strucker. Who she had done it to.

She hadn't said anything yet, mostly because it had taken her a bit to connect all the dots. She wasn't entirely sure if Steve was the man from the woman's head or if the woman in Steve's head was the same one from the base. And then once she did, she had kept it to herself for fear of his reaction. Fear that he wouldn't trust her anymore. Fear that she would be outcasted and exiled and forced to live on her own again. The Avengers had become the closest thing she had to a family - a home, again, and she didn't want to lose them. But she had to tell him.

"I have to tell you something." she voiced her thoughts, immediately looking away from him and across the small park where a dog and owner were playing fetch. She felt his eyes on her profile, waiting for her to continue, "After the Scepter...created me," she let a small, red, energy wave dance over her fingertips for a moment, "Strucker wanted to test my abilities. Strengthen them." she furrowed her brow a bit, remembering the different types of tests she had been put through, "First it was just little things, moving wooden blocks without touching them or crushing cans from a few feet away." she paused, "Then it was animals, mice usually, manipulating them to do things or making them hallucinate." she cleared her throat, keeping her eyes trained on the dog and its owner, "And then one day, he said there was a woman who had infiltrated and wanted to destroy what he had built. A threat. Said she was the perfect test subject for my abilities." she swallowed back the lump in her throat as she got to the part she was dreading, "I didn't realize who she was until later, when I saw her in your head." she finally stole a glance at Steve, who was still staring at her, features hard and serious. His fist clenched for a brief moment before unclenching and flexing out.

"Q." he figured it out for himself, voice thick. Eyes locked on his, she nodded, telling him he was right. Her first instinct was to defend herself, blame it all on von Strucker, but she couldn't. Because, in all honesty, she had taken some joy in breaking Q down under her abilities. Powerful even. And she had finally felt like she could have some influence in the world to stop the terror and chaos that was happening in her city. Now, later, she knew it was wrong. Knew she shouldn't have done that to an innocent woman.

"I'm sorry, Steve." she managed out, looking at her sandwich. Her stomach rolled at the sight of it, feeling almost disgusted with herself, "I know I should've told you sooner, but…" she trailed off, looking back over at him, "I couldn't. I didn't know how you...what you would do…" she tried to explain her reasoning behind keeping the secret, but nothing felt good enough, "She loved you so much." she said quietly after a moment, not knowing if that was the right thing to say, but remembering the feeling flooding through her when she entered Q's mind. How every scenario seemed to be centered around him.

"Don't." Steve's voice was hard, unlike any sort of tone of voice she had heard from him before. She had said the wrong thing. And god, she was itching to take it all back, slither her way into his mind and erase what she had just said. But she couldn't. It wouldn't be right. And ever since she had joined the Avengers, she had been trying to do the right thing.

The quiet between them was deafening. Wanda didn't know what to do; a part of her wanted to keep apologizing, the other wanted to just leave. While she didn't like the tension between the two of them, the weight she had been carrying around had finally left her shoulders. She wasn't harboring this giant secret anymore, waiting for it to be exposed and for everything to come crashing down.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to…" Steve finally broke the quiet, eyes on a random spot of grass in front of them, "Fuck, Wanda." he sat back on the bench, running a hand through his hair. She shrunk into herself, picking at the edge of her jacket sleeve as they fell quiet again,

"I understand if you don't want me on the team anymore." she told him quietly. He did a double take, straightening up a bit,

"What? Wanda, no, this..." he trailed off, trying to organize and explain his thoughts, "I can't blame you for the things you did at the Hydra base." he put it plainly, "You thought you were doing the right thing." she tried to hold back a flinch at the phrase, "Strucker told you that Q was a...threat, right?" she nodded a bit, afraid to really answer, "I mean, you were just a kid, Wanda. You're  _still_  just a kid." he reminded her, even though she was bordering on close to twenty now, "I don't  _like_  what you did - or who you did it to, and it may take me a bit to forgive you," he admitted and Wanda felt her heart sink, "but I understand the reasoning behind it." he finished with a brief, small smile. Strangely, his heart went out to her. Yes, she had done this terrible thing to the woman he loved, but she came to the realization that it was wrong - only to be afraid of his reaction. She was scared. She had always been scared, and he didn't want her to be anymore, "Thank you for telling me." he added with a nudge of her shoulder. She scoffed, not feeling totally relieved, but a bit better in knowing that she still had a place, a home, on the team.

"Yeah, I'm sure you  _really_  wanted to hear that." she said a bit sarcastically. He pulled down the corners of his lips in a face,

"Not really, no." he agreed, then shrugged, "But we're a team. And you can't trust someone on your team when they're keeping secrets from you." he told her with a look that meant she'd have to tell everyone else too. The fear re-instilled itself in her gut at the thought of having to tell both Natasha and Sam. But maybe it would be easier, now that she had said it once, and had Steve to help her. She let out a slow breath and tried to give him a strong smile.

"Now, eat," he nudged her again, lifting his chin toward her untouched sandwich, "Or else I'm gonna have to tell Al that you didn't like his food and, well, if you think Bruce gets angry…" he scoffed a bit, telling her that Albert's reaction would be akin to the Hulk. There was a bit of an amused smile on his face, "Even I won't be able to protect you from that." she laughed a little, but nodded and unwrapped her sandwich.

Steve watched as she dug into her sandwich, noticing how she was a little more relaxed than she had been at the safehouse. Everything made a bit more sense - why she had been so distant and why he didn't feel like he had been able to make a connection with her. The secret she had been keeping from him was holding her hostage. Keeping her from truly feeling like a part of the team. She had already proven that she was a valuable asset to the Avengers with her abilities, but after what she had just told him, Wanda had also shown that she  _wanted_  to be a part of the team - no matter how hard it was to tell him about Q.

And he admired her for that.

* * *

_A/N: Just a lil Steve chapter for you! I hope it was okay! Please let me know all your thoughts and concerns. Also we're almost at the two year anniversary of this story - what should I do to celebrate? Tell me here or feel free to send me a message on my tumblr (cassercole)! Love you all!_


	82. relatable

If she could use any word to sum up the past few days it would be: tentative. Everything was tentative. While some days made her feel like she was getting closer with Bucky, others made it seem like she wasn't. Sometimes she knew where she stood with him, other times she had no idea. Nothing good, nothing bad, just sort of there. Yet, able to tip at any moment in one or another direction. Unstable, but stable at the same time. Like a soft rollercoaster - one without any upside down loops.

Usually, they spent most days in his apartment because he didn't trust Dawson, which was understandable. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they didn't, sometimes she didn't even go to his apartment at all. For the first week, it was hard to think of any way to start any kind of conversation they ended up having. Which was ironic considering how she spent six months doing nothing but talking with Steve. She was rusty and she hated it; talking to people and getting them to open up was the one thing she had been good at. Even weeks later, there was a laundry list of things she still wanted to talk to him about, but didn't know how or where to start.

"Can you tell me about Hydra?" she asked carefully one day as they sat at the small table in his apartment. Two mugs were in between them; one filled with hot chocolate, the other filled with coffee. Since they had started seeing each other pretty frequently, he had stocked his kitchen with actual kitchenware and started buying actual groceries - not just the protein bars and refillable water jugs. And sometimes, if he was in a good headspace, he'd make them a full meal, which she appreciated.

Immediately, she could tell she made the wrong choice in asking him about Hydra; he tensed up at the mention of the organization - shoulders coming up and chin dropping down a bit. Clearly, he didn't want to talk about it. But Q did. They had a lot of things in common, but this was the most important one. She found someone who could actually relate to what she went through in the Hydra facility. Sure, she could talk to Steve about the super soldier-ness of it all, but this was different. And it was something she desperately needed. She still struggled daily with the mess inside her head, not having figured out how to calm herself down or stop from being suddenly overwhelmed or even what else beside they had "enhanced" in her.

"Please." she leaned forward a bit, "They did shit to me too, you know. And...I'm scared." she admitted. At that, his eyes flicked up to meet hers, an intense gaze holding her hostage. But the anger behind his eyes wasn't directed at her, no, it was directed at the organization who broke both of them only to rebuild them in their image. Except Q was never fully rebuilt.

"What did they do to you?" he asked lowly. The material of his gloved hand stretched across the metal knuckles as he made a fist. His eyes flicked around her face, pausing every so often on the same parts of her that he looked at when he rescued her in Moldova. He may have known where she was, but he had no idea what they did or why.

"They made me see things…" she started, brow furrowing as she thought back to the days spent trapped in the Hydra facility. Something she hadn't done yet, choosing to compartmentalize and ignore it for as long as she could. Only now, almost a year later, did she feel like she could finally start to process everything. Maybe it was because of who was sitting across from her, "Strapped me down to the chair." she rubbed her wrist at the memory of the straps that held her, lingering on the scars around each wrist from the hot wire. Almost at the same time, his wrist began to itch as a memory of the leather that was used in Zola's lab entered his mind, "Made it easier to torture me or inject me with things I guess. There was a woman...a girl really, who really fucked with me. The guy with the monocle had a different method every day...I don't know what else. I was sedated a lot of the time. Or hallucinating. But I can't...my brain feels different. And I can't tell if it's the P-T-S-D or something worse." she gave him a tight smile, wringing her hands together and feeling quite vulnerable after opening up to him. Something she hadn't yet done, but then again, neither had he. "I mean...have you ever been awake for twenty-four hours straight?"

"Many times." he responded, briefly remembering times where he had been forced to stay awake for Hydra missions or even after that when he pulled the man from the bridge -  _Steve_  - from the river.

"So you know that cloudy feeling where everything is shiny and moves too much?" she described it the best she could, waving her hand around a bit to make her point.

"...Sure." he agreed, understanding the words but not really the feeling she was describing. His was different than hers, not that it mattered.

"It's like that. Not to mention the nightmares."she added on, seeing him grimace in response.

"Yeah, those don't ever go away." he sighed heavily, going to trace the thread of his glove across his palm as he tried not to think about the last nightmare he had the previous night.

" _Great_." she sat back in her chair and folded her arms over her chest much like a child who had been told  _no_. The corner of his mouth quirked up at her surly reaction. Sometimes she reminded him of Rebecca. His sister. Which was nice. He liked being reminded of the good things, having so many terrible memories in his head already.

"When I was trying to find out what happened to you, I found this journal that documented a good chunk of time that you were…" she trailed off, knowing both of them knew what she was talking about. He tried to keep a neutral face, "The words...how did they work?" he swallowed hard, not wanting to think about the words or what they did to him, who they let out.

"It was like a light switch. They flipped it and I...I suddenly wasn't in control anymore." he summarized, hoping she didn't ask what the exact words were. He didn't know what would happen if he said them.

"Do you know...how they chose the words?" he cursed inwardly; while it wasn't the question he was expecting, he still didn't like it.

"Some seem related to things from my past. Others, random. It wasn't a sentence or phrase. It was distinct words." he told her, trying to answer her question without snapping at her. It wasn't her fault. She was just trying to understand him more. No one had ever taken the time to do that.

"So that day on the riverbank was that...?"

"Me, I think." he looked off to the side as if remembering that day, his fist clenching a bit before continuing, "I don't know for sure but it wasn't Him. He would've killed you." his eyes flicked to Q's, face serious and she had no doubt that he was right. She reached out for her hot chocolate, taking a sip as he considered what they just discussed, "So you think something like that happened to you?"

"I'm not...sure." she said hesitantly. She hadn't really thought about it. Obviously, she knew they fucked with her head, but she felt in control still. She assumed it was just her inside her head. Unfortunately or not.

"I know sometimes I...it's not like I feel Him, or hear Him. But I'm afraid if I look over my shoulder that He'll still be there." he tried his best to explain it, hoping she understood what he meant.

"I get it. I kinda feel the same...like I'm just afraid that they're still watching me or waiting for the best time to grab me." she nodded a bit as he picked up his coffee mug, holding it in his hands while he thought for a moment.

"I can't tell you if you've got words in your head." his eyes shifted to hers, "But I can tell you that I'll never let anything like that happen to you again." serious, the look paired with his words made a pang of longing go through her heart. Though the sentiment was appreciated, it reminded her of Steve and his promises. Even with their almost bi weekly conversations, it wasn't the same as being in his actual presence.

"You don't have to do that." she shook her head, shifting on her chair a bit. She had already interrupted and disturbed Bucky's quiet life enough, she didn't need him feeling like he had to do anything he didn't want to. He didn't owe her anything.

"You're my family." he reminded her matter of factly and rather sharply. His brow furrowed a bit before he continued, "And I don't have much of that anymore." he paused and then took in a breath, "I'm not gonna risk losing it." he sat back in his seat a bit, giving her a look that told her she had to deal with it. Pausing for a moment, she couldn't help but feel a bit surprised; none of her family had ever been protective over her. Hell, they probably didn't even know where she currently was or what she was currently doing. It was a new, strange thing for her to discover and she couldn't help the small smile that broke out across her face.

"Thanks, Bucky." she ducked her head down to hide her reaction. They were quiet for a moment before he spoke again,

"Do you have any other questions?" he braced himself, hoping the answer was no, but having been around his grand-niece enough now to know what the answer was. She sighed heavily, eyebrows raising up a bit.

"Tons." Bucky swallowed and then nodded, readying himself for whatever other questions she had.

From there, it was a bit of back and forth. Q rattled off her questions and Bucky answered them to the best of his ability. It only took a few questions for her to realize that some of her questions were almost too painful for him to answer.

"You can always pass on a question." she told him with an understanding smile, thinking back on the question game she and Steve played when he was trying to get to know her better. The rule she made so she could pass on a question without explaining why. A safety precaution. She didn't want to force Bucky to answer or make him feel like he had to because of who he was sitting across from. At her comment, his eyebrows rose in slight surprise; he had never been able to pass on a question before. Hydra demanded answers and he had to give them or risk punishment. Still, he nodded.

So they continued with their game. If you could call something like their Q and A session a game. Mostly it was just questions on questions, some about things he's never thought of before which made him pause. In those moments, Q's immediate thought was that she had offended him, but then she realized he was just processing. She had thought there was a lot going on in her head, but there was a lot more going on in his.

In her line of questioning came a few observations: like how she noticed her abilities are different than his or Steve's, which surprised him. She was lacking the key soldier elements like enhanced strength and agility. Every aspect of him was elevated from his strength to his marksmanship, which made him wonder aloud if Hydra had a different purpose for her other than a soldier.

"What - what if you're right?" she asked, beginning to panic about what that meant, "What if I'm a sleeper agent? What if they can remotely activate me? What if there's a tracking device of some sort in me and I don't even know it?" she only ever thought that she didn't get the similar heightened abilities as Steve or Bucky because Hydra only gave her part of the serum or if only part of it took. But after what he said about her having a different purpose...her head was beginning to come up with all the possible outcomes and none of them were looking good.

"There's not." he answered her matter of factly, in a level tone so not to cause her more panic, "They place them in the back of your neck, armed with a kill chip, just in case you fell out of line." his hand moved to the back of his, rubbing his fingers over the scar on the nape of his neck. He had deactivated the kill chip after saving Captain America -  _Steve_ , and then removed it before his handlers noticed, "You wore your hair up the other day, there's no mark." he explained how he knew, comforting her a bit. She fell quiet for a moment and then asked another question,

"How much do you remember?"

"Too much. And somehow not enough." he summed up, and it felt like the best way to describe what it was like inside his head. At times, he could remember every single kill mission Hydra had sent him on - who he killed and how, and even their last words.  _Howard!_  But other times, it was like there was this black hole in the middle of his memory, sucking in everything within a certain radius.

"I remember all of it." she admitted, looking down at her hands and picking at her nail beds that had been long since destroyed.

"I'm sorry." he found himself apologizing. He needed to. It was his fault. It was always his fault. Her head flicked up and eyes met his,

"It's not your fault." she told him with a slight shake of her head.

"You wouldn't have been there if I hadn't...done those things." he let out a breath, referring to everything he had done after escaping from Hydra and going on a bit of a revenge mission even though that wasn't the right answer at all.

"I wouldn't have been there if those assholes hadn't taken me prisoner. This is not your fault. None of it is." his brow furrowed as he tried to work his way through it before he settled on a response,

"Some of it is." she gave him a sad, sympathetic smile.

"You can't blame yourself for what they made you do." he leveled her with a look, setting his now empty mug back on the table as she finished up the last of her hot chocolate.

"I gave up. That's on me."

"Well after twenty years, I think you can be forgiven." she raised her eyebrows at him, daring him to challenge her and the copious amount of research she had done.

"What?" he was sure she had the years wrong. It was more than twenty. Everything he read about Steve -  _Captain America_ , stated so. That and the dates he had seen in newspapers and the general advancements made since he had regained control of his mind and body again.

"The data we found showed that you resisted for twenty years." she told him, rendering him speechless and then an almost guilty, but also sad look came over his face.

"I...I just...I didn't know what to do anymore." he said quietly, admitting how he gave up when he should've tried harder to fight it.

"It's alright. You survived it." she gave him a tiny smile and he looked at her rather seriously, nodding once before agreeing.

"We both did." he pointed out, making her hesitate and then nod in her own form of agreement. "Speaking of not knowing what to do anymore…" she trailed off and then took in a breath, "I have no idea what to. I mean, I know I should work through,  _really_  work through what happened to me but, God…" she let out the breath she took in and then didn't finish her sentence.

"Start from the beginning." he advised, remembering how he slowly tried to put the pieces of his life back together, "With what you remember, and then go from there. Things will come back, things won't, but you'll be moving forward." he nodded once, seeing her wry smile.

"Very wise." she teased him slightly and he shrugged in response. "And after?" she asked, picking at the handle of her mug. He gave her a small smile,

"I'm still trying to figure that out for myself." he admitted. She nodded, understanding that it was probably a lifelong process. Not something she was looking forward to; the last time she had tried to better herself and work past her trauma, it had ended where she was presently - back at the start.

Still, she took his advice and spent the next several hours facing her trauma head on, rather than thinking about it every so often or just shoving it back into a dark corner of her mind. And the only way she knew how to was by doing research, making graphs and charts, comparing herself from then and now, and even a few pro/con lists. Just as she had done for SHIELD and then the Avengers. She was her own mark. Her own potential threat.

By the time Bucky returned back to his apartment from his shift, she had covered the floor in various papers that seemed to be some sort of organized chaos. With Q right in the middle of it. Both literally and figuratively.

"What the fuck is this?" he asked out rather quietly, almost amazed by what he was seeing, but also incredibly concerned by what he was seeing.

"I have a process, okay? Back off." she sassed and then waved at him with a paper filled hand, ignoring as he carefully stepped through the minefield. As he got a better look, he silently wondered if she had gone insane. If Hydra's goal was to break her down enough where she couldn't come back from it.

"Any chance you wanna walk me through it?" he asked carefully, settling down on the edge of the table he had that was uncovered by papers.

"It's complicated." she looked up at him with raised eyebrows, but he just shrugged. Nothing was really that complicated to him anymore. Confusing maybe, but there was always a solution.

"Go through it." he gestured to her, watching her pause for a moment, then faced the map of Hydra she had put together. She found the beginning of the string and started there, walking him through it. While it was a  _bit_  complicated, he managed to follow along - impressed just by the sheer amount of detail that went into it

"In conclusion, I'm fucked up." she ended her explanation, looking up at him with a sad, yet accepting smile.

"But you're alive." he reminded her, just as Dawson did when she finally got out of Hydra's grasp.

"But I'm alive." she agreed with a sigh and a look back at her work.

"I'm sorry, kid." he found himself apologizing again for what she had gone through. She fixed him with an annoyed look that made his breath catch; he had seen that exact look on Rebecca's face countless times before - mostly directed at him too. It'd be funny, if it didn't remind him of what he had lost.

"Stop apologizing. I'm alive, remember? That's more than most people who deal with them." she said mostly to herself, thinking of all the other people who hadn't escaped like she had.

"You're going to get through this." he told her, sounding confident. She raised an eyebrow, leaning back on her hands,

"And how do you know that?" she inquired, seeing him shrug as if the answer was so simple,

"Because you're related to me. Rebecca. It's in your blood." she scoffed and rolled her eyes, not liking his answer. It was too much of a cop-out, but still Bucky pushed his point further, "We're a stubborn bunch." he gave her a quick grin, something that rarely happened, but always made her perk up when it did; it meant he remembered something good, "Any time I tried to tell Becca that she couldn't do something, she'd immediately try and do it just to prove me wrong." Q grinned at that because it sounded like the grandmother she knew, "Ended up using it to my advantage once or twice." he smiled fondly at a memory he didn't elaborate on further. Still, it was nice to know not everything about her grandmother was a lie.

"It's nice hearing about her." she told him, the underlying encouragement that she would like to hear more about Rebecca was clear. She wondered silently if he remembered anything like that about Steve. He probably had a ton of stories buried throughout his memory, protected from the constant torture Hydra put him through. They hadn't really broached the topic of Steve yet - mostly because she wasn't sure how to bring it up.

But if the past few weeks spent together were any indication, the more he talked about certain things, the more he remembered. And the more she tugged at different threads, the more he talked about them. Talking was helping. She was helping. Or so she liked to believe; it gave her some sense of purpose and the feeling that all of her struggles and sacrifices hadn't been for naught.

"Do you remember anything about Steve?" she asked gingerly, looking up at him to gauge his reaction. A brief flash of sadness moved across his face, followed by a twitch of his eyebrows in confusion before he settled on his usual resting face.

"Sometimes." he nodded a bit, shifting against the table. His metal hand curled around the edge of the table as he sifted through the memories at the forefront of his memory. The pause was long enough to make Q ask another question,

"Do you ever think about finding him again?" his eyes flicked over to hers and he paused for a moment before shaking his head,

"I'm not the man he once knew." he explained why rather briefly, but it was heavy with meaning.

"I don't think he's the man you used to know either." she reasoned, knowing it was true. Still, Bucky held his position,

"Maybe. But I've done a lot of unforgivable things." she grimaced, knowing she had too. Not that it mattered though.

"To have you back in his life again, he's going to look past all that. And he's not going to blame you for the things you were made to do." she told him, feeling confident in her prediction as to what Steve would do and how he would react. Hell, he'd go to the ends of the Earth for Bucky. His brother. To both have him in his life again and to rid himself of some of the guilt he had been harboring around. She raised her shoulders up, "Moving forward right?" she called back to their earlier conversation.

"And what about you?" he asked. She took in a deep breath and surveyed her work, then glanced back at him,

"I spent almost two years trying to find you, and now that I have...I have to figure out what comes next." Dawson had been supporting both of them for the last two years, but that wasn't sustainable and he was already pissed about losing a little chunk of his nest. Something he never failed to remind her about. She had to get back into the world again. Be a contributing member to society again.

Sharon had reached out earlier in the month because she had been transferred to the CIA's Berlin office and there was an analyst position open. And apparently enough time had passed where the CIA wasn't so worried about the fall of SHIELD and who was involved as much as they were about the supposed unruliness of the Avengers. It was just something to consider, Sharon had said over the phone, clearly not sure what was going on in Q's life. Honestly, Q wasn't sure either.

"As much as I love sitting around with in your very shitty apartment," he gave her a look of warning that she ignored, "I think I have to try to figure out how to be  _normal_  again." she used air quotes around the word.

"Let me know when you figure it out." Bucky sighed heavily, and she cracked a smile at his response.

Turning back to her mess, she started to organize it into stacks and clear the floor. While Bucky started on dinner for the two of them, she took her time going through her pages to make sure everything was there. She hadn't done something like she did since she figured out her feelings for Steve. And even though it hadn't cleared  _everything_ up, it was almost calming in a way. Creating a path from point A to point B in that messed up head of hers. She knew what happened to her - now she just had to figure out who she had become because of it. And what she was going to do next.

* * *

_A/N: A very conversation heavy chapter! But I'm excited about Q and Bucky ~bonding~ and there will be more of it happening! So I hope you like it! Please let me know your thoughts and what not. I really want to hear them!_

_Also: the 2 Year Anniversary is less than two weeks away and I still have NO CLUE what to do to celebrate! LMK what you think I should do!_

_Thank you for reading and reviewing! Love you all so much!_


	83. being better

"Where is the nearest metro station?" Bucky asked in Romanian.

"Two blocks down and to the left." she answered him easily, having mainly spoke the language with him for the past three months.

"And what time does it come?" he asked, switching to French rather smoothly. Her brow twitched for a moment, working through his question and pulling the language from a corner of her mind,

"It depends on the line you want to take." she responded in the same language. The corner of his mouth quirked up, which Q knew meant he was going to try and trick her.

"I'm going to be taking the blue line." he told her in what she thought was French again, but she paused before responding. The word for  _blue_  was similar sounding in both French and Italian. Her brain took a second to work through the rest of the sentence before settling on that he hadn't made the switch based on the a few other pronunciations.

"Then it comes every fifteen minutes." she responded confidently in French. Bucky grinned at her; she clearly got it correct and he continued,

"I guess I should leave soon then." he finished in a different language. But before she could open her mouth to respond, Dawson's annoyed groan filled in.

"Jesus,  _Latin_?" he asked in English with raised eyebrows, "Nobody speaks that anymore - hence the whole  _dead language_  thing." he raised his hand up and waved it a bit. Q tried not to smile while Bucky just looked mildly confused.

"You know Latin?" he asked, switching back to English. Dawson gave him a very familiar  _duh_  look, having gotten over the whole "former Hydra assassin" thing a long time ago. Now he just treated Bucky like he treated almost everyone else: like an annoyance.

"Uh, yes. Basis of every program ever." he twirled the screwdriver in between his fingers, "But I don't go around speaking it like some idiot from the dark ages." he made a face and then gave a pointed look at Q, who rolled her eyes.

"We're just trying to figure out how many languages I know." she reminded him with a point to her head, "Apparently it's a lot."

"Apparently you can help a lot of tourists get to the train." he shot back, pulling down the corners of his mouth as he teased her a bit. She gave him an unamused look before crumpling up a piece of paper and tossing it at him. He batted it away easily and gave a triumph huff of a laugh. Bucky watched the two of them interact, being reminded of the friendship between him and Steve. Longing filled him for a moment, then quickly dissipated when a shock snaked down his metal arm, jolting him back to the present. He glanced down to see that Dawson had resumed his tinkering with the metal prosthetic - something that Q expected would happen at some point once Bucky became more comfortable around him; she knew how interested Dawson was in the technology behind Bucky's arm.

And it didn't seem like Bucky minded. She had heard him ask Dawson a few questions about the arm itself or the two of them getting into long winded discussions about it. Almost like he didn't know certain things about how the arm worked, like he had just treated it as an arm that was a little more enhanced than the other parts of him. It also amused her to learn about how much a science nerd Bucky was.

Over the last month, things had settled. With the help of Bucky, she had slowly been working through her Hydra trauma and learning what the side effects were. While Dawson had been able to help her in the beginning, being with someone who had much more firsthand experience under the restraints of Hydra was much more helpful. Bucky had been able to explain certain things or figured out other things that ended up making much more sense after he connected the dots.

And in a way, it had helped him begin to work through his trauma as well. Besides having little nerd conversations with Dawson, Q had given him the research she had done over the years in her search for him, letting him page through the documents and journal at his own pace. They had talks, not unlike the ones she had with Steve all those years before, both of them contributing to the conversation about Hydra. He was healing, slowly. They both were.

Of course, she wanted didn't want to just talk to him about Hydra and make him relive all the pain he went through. She didn't track him down just for that. She found him because she was interested in learning more about him as a person. The brother of the grandmother she thought she knew so well. Those were her favorite conversations - the times where he remembered stories about her grandmother or even Steve. And in return, she told him stories about her grandmother and Steve. It was a little weird to hear about the two people each of them knew during different times of their lives. But it was also nice.

"Do you still want to go to the farmer's market? I have that interview in a couple hours, so if you do, we should go now." she raised her eyebrows at Bucky, pulling his attention away from where Dawson was poking through the metal plates.

"I'd like to." he nodded, giving her a small smile in return. The farmer's market had become a weekly outing for the two of them. A chance for her to help him get better at being in public and interacting with strangers, re-teaching him that not everyone was a threat. It was only the two of them who ever went; Dawson always stayed at the AirBnB, working on some sort of vest thing that had a lot of flashing lights. Q didn't ask. She had enough going on.

Still, she looked forward to their trips to the market. Made her feel like she was truly building a relationship with him. And it gave her a bit of insight to the life he led in Romania, the relationships he had managed to build without even realizing it. Sometimes something would trigger a memory for him about her grandmother or even Steve, which was always nice to hear. Sometimes, she'd tell him a story about her grandmother as the woman she knew, which he enjoyed considering he never got the chance to see her really grow up and become the woman she did. As they walked through the stalls, it was like they were just two normal people, enjoying each other's company with no hints of shared trauma between them.

"Remember, focus on why you're here." he murmured to her as they got closer the market, having already noticed that Q was trying to take in everything at once, "Your instincts will kick in if you need them. You don't have to keep them at the forefront." he reminded her because even if progress had been made, she still struggled with becoming overwhelmed by it all at times. She nodded at his advice, running through the mental checklist she had created on the walk over: they needed cheese and bread, there was the local winemaker who had a new bottle for her, she wanted to stop at the vendor who was making a pair of butterfly earrings the previous week, Bucky needed plums because the fruit helped neutralize cell-damaging free radicals, and Dawson wanted strawberries because he liked the taste. Bread, cheese, wine, earrings, plums and strawberries.

Though whenever there was a loud noise, she got distracted. If someone moved too close to them while they were at a stall, she flinched. And Bucky couldn't help but notice. Usually, she was good at hiding it, but there were days. Her Bad Days, she called them, and he hated that she ever had any to begin with.

"What's next on the list?" he asked calmly, getting her attention. She glanced over at him, confused by his question and his demeanor. He wasn't the biggest fan of being out in crowded places either - even if he had gotten better at it over the months. Still, one of them had to be calm and it looked like it was going to be him that time, which was odd to say the least.

"I - I wanted to look at the earrings Elena was making last week." she pulled her checklist back to the front of her mind. Bucky nodded and gestured toward the table the woman usually sat at,

"Lead the way." he instructed, following her through the maze of tables and tents before they arrived at the jewelry vendor. The earrings were on display among other handmade items, the light shining off of the glass. She reached out and gently ran her finger over the edge of the earrings, feeling almost soothed by the delicateness of them. And while she really did want them, a part of her told her that she didn't deserve them, which made her draw her hand back and step away.

"Not what you expected?" Bucky asked, noticing her reaction. She shook her head and took in a breath before responding,

"Too good for me." she mumbled a bit. His eyebrows furrowed, unsure by what she meant. She noticed his expression and then sighed, picking under her fingernails, "I don't know...I don't think I deserve them." she admitted.

"Why not?"

"Because." she answered with a simple shrug, not wanting to get into it right then and there. Bucky fixed her with a look, one that told her he knew what she meant and also wasn't going to accept that as an answer,

"You have to stop punishing yourself." he told her, gaining an eyeroll from his grand-niece. Though he didn't specify what she needed to stop punishing herself for, it covered everything they had talked about previously; Hydra, Steve, her leaving him the way she did, the things she had done during her search for Bucky, the things she had done even before that before SHIELD and Steve, etc. etc. She may have made some bad choices but so had he.

"Real rich coming from you." she scoffed. Still, the look stayed, unflinching at the little dig at him.

"You're supposed to be better than me. That's the whole point." he reminded her with a slight gesture. That's what family and generations were supposed to be about - being better than those that came before.

"But I'm not." she shook her head, unconvinced. He sighed heavily, knowing she was just trying to have an excuse. Of course she was better than him. She hadn't spent the last seventy-five years under the control of a Nazi organization, doing whatever they told him to do. Killing innocents, losing himself, becoming a monster. She was just unlucky.

"Buy the damn earrings or I'll buy them for you." he gave her a small ultimatum. Her brows furrowed, not understanding her choices.

"Why?" she asked. His eyes flitted from her face to the earrings and then back to her, softening a bit when he saw Rebecca's -  _his sister's,_ eyes staring back him, curiously confused.

"Because when life gives you something nice, you have to take it. You have to." he told her, speaking from experience. There hadn't been many nice things life had given him over the past few years, but in the past few months, getting to know his grand-niece was certainly one of them. And he was happy he hadn't pushed her away like he wanted to at first. She paused for a moment, considering his words and then sighed,

"I would but I'm out of cash." she gained an eyeroll from him before he turned to Elena to discuss how much the earrings were. He handed over a few notes and then took the small box Elena handed him with a flirty smile that he didn't notice. Feeling Q's eyes on him, he slipped the box into his pocket and started to walk away from the booth.

"Wait, what-" Q asked, following after him.

"Admit you deserve them, and then you can have them." he glanced over his shoulder at her, waiting for her to fall into step beside him.

"What the fuck kind of logic is that?" she sputtered out, coming up on his side, but he switched to her right side - just like he used to do to Steve when they'd walk through the markets because of his bad ear. He didn't respond, just raised his eyebrows up at her and waiting for her to do as he told her.

"I...I deserve them." she responded hesitantly. He tilted his head to the side and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

"You don't sound so sure of yourself." he told her, making her scoff.

"Well this a weird request!" she raised her shoulders up, not sure what kind of weird Karate Kid moment he was trying to have with her. Still, he didn't respond, just patiently waited for her to continue, "Fine." she stopped walking and crossed her arms over her chest, "I want the earrings, and I should have them. I deserve to have them." That made him smile, digging into his pocket to hand over the box with the earrings in them. She snatched them away from him, " _Thank you_." he grinned, sliding his now empty hand back into his pocket,

"Anything else you want or need?" he asked. She paused for a moment, refocusing on the tasks at hand. Running through her mental checklist, she let the rest of the world fade away for a moment before shaking her head.

"No. That's it." she told him and he nodded in response.

"Okay. Let's go back to my apartment then." he turned in the direction of his apartment, having had enough interaction with strangers for the day. Even with Q's help in getting him to stop being so paranoid, there was still only so much he could take. So much either of them could take. But she noticed how he didn't call it home. She wondered if there was any place he really considered home.

The apartment was much more quiet than the farmer's market, but for some reason it was just as overwhelming. Bucky seemed to notice and moved over to the coffee maker in the kitchen, letting the simple white noise be enough to calm her and let her refocus. She gave him a grateful smile, leaning her elbows on the island and watching him move around the kitchen.

"Is there a key to controlling it?" she asked curiously, noting that despite everything he had been through, he still was functional and able to act like a human even if he was having a day where he didn't feel as such. He shrugged, not really having an answer to her question; it was different for everyone.

"If I start losing control, I remind myself of who I am, where I am, what I'm doing. Like we did at the market." he answered simply, "Take a second and come back."

"That's it?" she asked, sounding doubtful at how easy it seemed to be. Again, he shrugged,

"Sometimes it works. Sometimes I need to  _really_  remove myself from the situation." he stressed, making it sound physical more than metal, "And sometimes I just need to distract myself." he gestured to the coffeemaker. She nodded, understanding what he meant, "Now, come on, help me figure out how to make this pasta." she snorted and then shook her head,

"Hard pass." she put her hands up, "I'm not allowed in kitchens. It's a safety hazard. I will burn down your shitty apartment." she sighed, putting her hands back onto the island counter, "And besides, you know how to make pasta." she told him and ignoring his offer. He made a face and shrugged,

"I forget. I tend to forget a lot of things." he gave her a pointed look and she rolled her eyes in response. While she liked that his sense of humor made an appearance every so often, she didn't like when he used it to his advantage. Pushing up from where she was leaning against the island, she moved around to the inside of the kitchen area, taking the pot from his hand and filling it with water before placing it on the stove.

Despite claiming he forgot how to cook pasta, he walked her through what to do. It had been a long time since he had taught anyone to do anything - and even longer since it had been something non-violent. While it had started out as a way for him to distract her from the chaos in her head, it became a distraction for him too - giving him something to focus on and the emotions that came with it. There was something soothing in watching her break apart the pasta and dump it into the boiling water. A weird sense of pride filled him when a noodle stuck to the wall after she took it out of the pot and threw it against the wall. The whole experience reminded him of days he would cook dinner with either his sister or Steve, working with each other through new recipes or teaching each other tricks to make it easier. Who knew something as simple as cooking pasta would make him feel so human?

Still riding the high of successfully making one pot of pasta, Q returned to the AirBnB with enough time so she could get ready for her Skype interview with the CIA offices in Berlin. She dug out one of the only button up shirts and blazers she had brought with her, changing her top half but keeping her leggings on since the camera would only see from her shoulders up. She tied her back in her usual half-up, half-down do that she wore her hair in almost every day at SHIELD. While her face looked much better than it had when she first escaped Hydra, she couldn't do her interview with a bare face. The bags under her eyes needed to be covered up the bags and her lips and cheeks needed a bit more color.

Usually makeup was her favorite part of her routine, finding solace in the motions and liking how she looked with it on, but while she painted her face, she found just how sensitive she was to the bristles of the brushes and how the heaviness of the coverup seemed to be suffocating her. Staring at herself in the mirror, she remembered Bucky's advice; remind and distract. She had the makeup on for an interview, an important interview so that she could be a contributing member of society again. And it was only for an hour at most, she could handle it.

Her eyes caught sight of the small white box that held the butterfly earrings Bucky had bought her at the market. There was a little warm fuzzy feeling inside of her at the thought that her butterfly hairpin had been her grandmother's and Bucky had also given her something butterfly themed. Another connection. She carefully took off the top, letting the light in the bathroom glint off the colored glass. Gingerly, like she was afraid they would shatter under her fingers, she plucked them out of the box and put them in her ears. It took a second to repoke through the holes in each of her ears and she winced in discomfort before the earrings finally went through.

Letting her hands fall to the counter of the sink, she studied her reflection for a bit, turning her head to each side to catch sight of the earrings. It had been a long time since she had worn any sort of jewelry, let alone earrings. The earrings plus the makeup made her look like herself, made her  _feel_  like herself again. Her reflection hadn't gone through any of the shit she had, was still  _really_ with Steve, had a stable job, was happy. She liked it. She wanted to be her reflection.

As far as interviews went, the Skype call with the Berlin office of the CIA had gone well. Even before Hydra had fucked with her head and enhanced her analyst abilities, Q had always been a good interviewer. All interviews were pretty much the same, all with different variations of the same questions. What mattered was the person asking those questions, and since Q was good at reading people, it was easy to figure out which direction to take. Understanding what they were looking for in a candidate and what the right was to answer the questions she was asked. If she should try and be funny, or stick to be serious. If she should be confident in her skills or a little hesitant and open to learning. Playing the game, and becoming the best candidate in the hour they had.

Of course, there were questions about her involvement with the takedown of SHIELD, which she answered just as she had during her Congress hearing. Then one final one about what she had been up to since her exit from Stark Industries. And while she didn't lie, she of course didn't flat out tell them what she had been doing. All they knew was that she had been traveling. Which was true.

The interview ended with a timeline of what would happen next: a background check, references, another round of interviews, a personality test, an in person test or trial run to see if she'd be a good fit for the agency and really did have the skills her resume said she did, then an offer or not. A long process but one she was willing to go through so she could finally start to move forward.

Almost like she had some sort of sixth sense (or maybe just knew the person who was interviewing Q), Sharon called her as soon as the interview was over. She answered on the third ring, shrugging out of her blazer as she did so,

"Hey," she smiled in her greeting, ready to dissect her interview with someone on the inside.

" _How'd it go?"_ Sharon asked, clearly on the same page.

"As well as it could've given who I am and what I've done." she sighed, summing it up plainly because it was true. She felt confident in her interview, but there was still the matter of her background and the personal opinions the interviewer came into the interview with - if he realized it or not. Sharon snorted on the other end,

" _Hey, they hired me."_ she pointed out, making Q laugh a little,

"Yeah, you weren't on SHIELD's most wanted list though." she reminded her friend. Sharon made a little noise of disagreement,

" _Technically it was Hydra's._ " she pointed out. Q sighed and leaned back in her chair, putting her feet up on the small night table that housed her laptop for the interview - the perfect height so she wasn't looking down or up.

From there, the two women discussed Q's interview for a short while more, then the conversation progressed into what Sharon was up to in her life and what was going on in the world. Three months ago, when she found Bucky, Q hadn't realized she had so removed herself from the world. Her constant contact with Steve was enough for her, but apparently there was a lot she had missed. Like how Tony had opened a new Avengers compound in upstate New York, but then left the Avengers. Or how Thor and the Hulk hadn't been heard from since the Battle of Sokovia.

"... _And then there's this whole Accords thing."_ Sharon sighed, sounding like she was sitting down somewhere, probably behind her desk.

"What Accords thing?" she repeated after, brow furrowing. Steve hadn't mentioned anything about any sort of accords - he hadn't mentioned anything about Thor or the Hulk either, but that was beside the point.

" _After the Battle of Sokovia, the UN got together and created them. It's a set of documents designed to regulate the activities of enhanced individuals,"_ Sharon started to explain before getting into more detail, " _Specifically those who work for either government agencies such as SHIELD or for private organizations such as the Avengers."_ she sounded like she was quoting something that had been told to her.

"Like Steve." Q realized, a sense of dread settling over her, "Do they know about the documents? The Avengers?" she clarified.

" _Not yet."_ she answered, the sound of her clicking pen coming over the line. She was nervous, " _The UN is still waiting for a few more countries to join in ratifying them."_

"How many have already?" she asked a follow up question.

" _A hundred, at least."_ Q blew out a slow breath, letting her feet drop from the table and sitting up a bit more, " _This isn't a bad thing, Q. Ever since SHIELD fell...the Avengers aren't being held accountable. And I know they're doing good things and all, but also they're kinda...just doing whatever they want."_  She was right, Q knew this, and she couldn't help but agree that there needed to be some sort of supervision when it came to dealing with people like the Avengers. But she also knew that Steve was  _not_ going to like it. It would prevent him from doing the thing he loved doing the most: the right thing.

After thinking about her conversation with Sharon for a few days, Q came to the conclusion that it was time for her to go back to New York. She wasn't sure when the United Nations was going to drop the Accords in the Avengers' laps, but she knew she had to be there when it happened. Just for Steve. So he knew she was supporting him. Getting back into her life. Moving forward.

"You could come with us, you know." she told Bucky as they were saying goodbye. He paused for a moment, turning over the offer in his head and then shaking his head.

"I don't think that's a good idea." he responded, glancing at the floor and avoiding eye contact with her, "No one needs to know me." he continued. Q knew he meant Steve and her heart dropped a bit. Even after all this time he had spent healing and getting his memories and himself back again, he still didn't want Steve to know this version of him. She could understand that.

"We know you." she pointed out, also grouping in Dawson. He pulled his gaze from the floor to hers and gave her a small smile,

"I think that's enough for now." he told her firmly. She hesitated but then nodded in agreement, letting him have his way. Maybe this wasn't home for him, but it was a place where he could continue to heal from his trauma. And he was glad that Q had found him; it had helped him more than he could've ever thought. One day, he would be more sure of himself to go back to New York. To see Steve again. And maybe be forgiven for his sins.

Acting on instinct, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Bucky in a hug. He was surprised by it - not having this much contact with another human being in a long time, especially one so full of love and warmth. He hugged her back, careful with his metal arm, but relishing in the motion and committing it to memory for whenever there was a day where he forgot himself.

With a promise to keep in contact and another hug for the road, Q left Bucky's little apartment a bit nervous about leaving him on his own again. But before she could spiral and turn back, she reminded herself that he had managed on his own before she found him, and he was better than when she found him. It would be okay.

As she and Dawson made their way to the airport, Q's burner phone buzzed with an incoming text. Flipping it open, she saw Steve's name above the short text he had sent:

_Can't wait to see you. Glad you're coming home._

* * *

A/N: I know it's not a Steve/Q reunion, but it's ALMOST a Steve/Q reunion! Please let me know your thoughts and what you think is going to happen.

And with only a few days before the two year anniversary, I just want to say thank you to everyone who's taken the time to read and review this story. It means a lot to me, really. Here's to two more years!


	84. ruined reunion

Steve was waiting for them at the main entrance of the compound. He was dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans, which surprised her. A part of her was expecting him to be in one of his Captain America uniforms. Only because she had figured since this was the  _Avengers_  Compound, he'd always be acting as Captain America. It was nice to see that he was comfortable enough to let the facade fall.

Ever the gentleman, Steve stepped up to open Q's door for her. He gave her a smile that reached his eyes, which made her heart skip a beat. He was actually happy to see her. Not just pretending for show. Though her nerves had been all over the place regarding her decision to come back to New York and to Steve, the simplest of smiles from her quasi-boyfriend had been enough to quell those nerves a bit. She had made the right decision. It was time, and she needed to be there for Steve. She  _wanted_  to.

"Hi." he greeted her alongside the genuine smile, "Did you have a good flight?" he asked politely. She raised her eyebrows and made a face, not giving him a positive answer because she hadn't really. Despite all the tricks Bucky had taught her, being stuck in a tin can at three thousand feet in the air for multiple hours was  _much_  different than wandering around a local farmers' market.

"We made it." she settled on, making him laugh a bit and shake his head. Taking her small suitcase from her, his eyes then darted to the inside of the car behind her, silently wondering where the rest of her stuff was, "That's it." she told him with a shrug. And it was true. She hadn't left with much to begin with and anything else she bought later or got was left at the beach house in Ukraine since they left to Romania to find Bucky before he disappeared again.

He gave her a quick smile and nod, adjusting his grip on her carry-on. His other, free hand reached out for hers. She hesitated for a moment, not expecting the motion, but still moving her hand to take his. His fingers intertwined with hers and she felt herself relax a bit more. A good decision.

"Hey, man," Dawson greeted his ex-friend with an upward motion of his chin, "What's up?" he asked, trying to act casual and cool despite the last, tense interaction the two had had. Steve took in a breath and took his hand away from Q's, only to reach out to Dawson. She watched the two do the handshake he had taught Steve way back when in D.C. then nod at each other.

"Uh, I think Nat's somewhere around here." Steve tilted his head toward the entrance of the compound, "She's looking forward to seeing you." he added, getting a scoff from Dawson because he clearly didn't believe him. He made eye contact with Q, the two of them silently communicating for a moment. He wanted to make sure everything was good, and that she was okay - which she was. After a brief moment, he glanced back at Steve and made a face, adjusting the grip on his bags,

"Guess I should go get my room assignment, right?" he asked a rhetorical question, using it as an excuse to leave the two of them alone. She gave him a grateful smile, watching him walk off into the compound before returning her attention to Steve.

"I don't know who he expects to tell him where his room is." Steve's brow furrowed in worry and she laughed a bit,

"He'll figure it out." she waved her hand in the air, "Or just yell at someone until they tell him." she smiled at her friend's retreating back, Steve's head turning to look at her with an easy smile.

"For the record, you'll be staying with me." he turned his whole body to face her, one hand moving to settle on her hip. She raised her eyebrows up,

"Is that so?" she asked, receiving a noise of affirmation back from him. Then he paused, moving away from her a bit, but his hand stayed on her hip.

"Unless you don't want to." he backtracked a bit. She could tell he was suddenly a bit unsure of what he had just said. Even if they were better than they had been, he didn't want to assume anything. The ground beneath them was still a bit uneven. "I mean, there's enough space for you to have your own room - really they're like little studio apartments. Just with a shared kitchen and common room area." he explained a bit. She wanted to laugh; she hadn't seen him this nervous in a long time. She was always the nervous one where he was always the level headed one. And as much as she wanted to tease him and continue to watch him get flustered, she knew it would be better to reassure him.

"Steve," she stopped him by pressing her hands against his chest, "I want to. I just...wasn't aware that was allowed." she couldn't help herself, making an exaggerated face. He laughed and rolled his eyes, "I'm just saying," she raised her shoulders up, "it seems very... _military_  here." she glanced around her surroundings where there were different groups of people wandering around; some running drills in the standard SHIELD recruit gear she had learned to love, some in white lab coats walking past the wall of windows inside the compound, others meandering around the campus in smaller groups. Steve had told her that the compound had become a fusion of SHIELD and the Avengers, but it was still strange to see in person. It almost reminded her of the facility she and Spencer had broken into way back when, which then caused everything to happen. But it wasn't. She was sure of it.

"I can see why you like it." she looked back at him with a knowing smile. He took in a breath and looked over her head for a moment to do a sweep of the grounds with his eyes. He hadn't spent much time at the compound as it was; trying and failing to track down Rumlow, but both of them already knew that. Then his gaze landed back on her,

"I like it better now." he admitted, making her heart swell again. Another tally mark on the side of it being a good decision to come back.

Without thinking, she moved in to give him a kiss. A sure one, as sure as she now was about her decision to come back. He responded immediately, kissing her back lovingly and moving his hand from her hip to cup the side of her face. Deepening the kiss a bit, he demonstrated just how happy he was to have her back - be able to kiss her again, and of course left a little something to be desired. A hint of what was to come after they had settled in his room.

As they walked through the compound to the living quarters, Steve took a moment to react to her actually walking next to him. Holding his hand. She looked better than she had in Croatia, or during their Skype conversations, even after a however long flight. Though she wasn't wearing any makeup, the bags under her eyes had faded and her skin looked a lot better. Her hair was pulled back in a messy braid and wearing clothes that actually fit her but were still comfortable looking. Those brown eyes of hers still flicked around as they walked down through the compound, trying to take it all in at once, but there wasn't the anxiety behind them anymore. Whatever was going on inside her head was still happening, but it was clear she had found a way to deal with it.

He squeezed her hand gently, getting her attention for a moment and watching her eyes find his, her brow relaxing once they did. She gave him an easy smile and leaned into him a bit, which calmed him down a bit. While he was happy she had come home, he had been nervous about what it would be like. He was bracing himself for the awkwardness that would undoubtedly come at some point. Both of them were.

"This is it," he pushed open the door and rolled her carry-on into the room first, "Home sweet home." he sighed, tone telling Q that even if he did seem comfortable at the compound, he still didn't believe it was actually home. He glanced around the room as if he hadn't been living there ever since Sokovia. His gaze shifted to Q, watching her take in the room. She stepped in carefully, as if afraid something would jump out at her, "We can rearrange it if you want." he started talking to fill the silence, "I, uh, still have some of, well most of, your stuff from D.C. in storage." he found himself saying, and then winced, not sure why he felt the need to tell her that. Maybe it was because the room suddenly felt like it was more focused on him rather than the two of them together.

"You do?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder at him, "Why?" her brow furrowed as if she was confused by his actions. If she was him, she probably would've thrown everything out, or even burned everything as a reaction to the pain she was feeling that was caused by him.

"Uh, in case you ever came home." he admitted, hands slipping into his pockets. A look of regret crossed her face quickly, but she recovered just as quick, giving him a small smile and nod.

"Right, yeah," she responded as if it made total sense. This was one of the awkward moments both of them had been waiting for. Reminders of what had happened, what caused the schism between them and the fallout that came from it.

She turned away from him to keep looking around the room for a moment, just to avoid prolonged, awkward eye contact with him. It was bigger than a dorm room, fitted with everything one could possibly need in their bedroom. A queen sized bed that was properly made was in the center of the room, up against the back wall. Diagonally across from it, against the windows was a desk that looked very official along with a few of Steve's old art resting on the ledge. There were two closed doors that Q figured led to the bathroom and a closet respectively. There was a nightstand next to his bed that had a worn in looking journal and a framed photo of them two of them resting on top of it. At the sight of it, she smiled to herself and then turned back to look at Steve who was waiting expectantly.

"Figured I'd let you get settled and then we could talk." he laid out a bare bones plan, "I have a couple of Avengers things I have to take care of, but I'm free after. And I'm sure you want to shower and change or whatever, so…" he trailed off a bit, leaving it open for her to add whatever it was she wanted to add. She nodded, arms wrapping around her middle.

"Yeah, definitely." she agreed, "We can talk after you're finished." she added, feeling her stomach knot up at the idea of talking to Steve. If only because it meant it was time to tell him about Bucky. And she was nervous as to how he would react.

Still, she had some time to figure out what she was going to say and how. With Steve taking care of his Avengers' things, she was left to her own devices for a few hours. First, she showered and changed into a clean outfit. Then she unpacked what she could: hanging things up in Steve's closet and setting up her things in the bathroom. That way he could see that for her, this was permanent. And that she wanted to be there with him in the weird dorm-like room that they were going to share. Maybe one day they could get an apartment close by. But that was a conversation for another day.

After she was finished unpacking, she let herself wander the compound a bit to get used to her surroundings. It would be helpful in adjusting - something to organize her mind. The walk through the compound was enough to send her into a brief panic. There was so much, so soon: like the random groups of people, or the loud explosions every so often that came from the lab areas, or grunts echoing as agents sparred with one another, or the sounds of quinjets taking off and landing. A new place, meant new things to get used to.

The compound was intimidatingly big, meaning there was no way she was going to be able to see it all in one day, so she settled on learning the layout of the wing she was in. Steve had said it was the residency wing, but it looked like much more. It was pretty soundproofed, which relieved her; she wouldn't be up at all hours of the night listening to the sounds of experiments or other SHIELD/Avengers activities. Not that she ever went to college, but the residency wing was similar to what she thought a college dorm building would look like. That is if the college was for superheroes and full of grade-A tech. It was complete with a kitchen and living room area but also different meeting rooms and a gym area and even a shooting range. A separate place from the SHIELD going ons, but still merged with everything that seemed to be needed for the Avengers. Almost like Tony had taken Avengers Tower and flattened it. She could get used to it.

A little while later, Steve found her in the common area, sitting on one of the couches and paging through a magazine that had been left on the coffee table. She had showered, hair drying into its natural waves, and was in a different outfit than the one she had arrived in. There was a blanket covering her legs as if she was cold, even though it was pretty much the dead of summer.

"Found you." he announced himself, even though he was sure she knew he was there. She looked up from her magazine and gave him a smile,

"I wasn't hiding." she responded, closing the magazine over and letting her eyes follow him as he crossed over to settle down on the couch next to her. "Everything good?" she asked, shifting a bit so that she was fully facing him. He nodded in response,

"Just the usual stuff." he vaguely told her before getting into detail, "Still trying to track down Rumlow. He's moved on to police stations now." he added, making her eyebrows raise. She hummed to herself thoughtfully.

"Well, I haven't heard anything since the lead I gave you a while back." she told him and then took in a breath, "But I'd be more than willing to dig in a little deeper." she added, surprising him a bit.

"You'd be okay with that?" he asked, referring to her past with Rumlow. She scoffed a bit, raising her eyebrows up,

"Tracking down my Hydra ex-co-workers-with-benefits with my superhero boyfriend?" she paused for the dramatics, "Absolutely." she agreed with a grin. He laughed a bit with a shake of his head, happy that they were back to referring to each other as 'boyfriend' and 'girlfriend.'

"Alright, as long as you're sure." she scooted closer to him, shifting so that she could hook her legs over his lap.

"Of course. Gotta earn my keep somehow." she reached out to tuck his hair behind his ears even though it wasn't long enough to do so. He grinned at her, leaning forward to give her a kiss. She kissed him back, relishing in the moment where everything felt normal again. And right. Like she never left.

She rested her forehead on his for a moment, noses barely touching, and let her fingers run through his hair. He moved to lightly kiss her again before pulling back and wrapping his arm around her waist to pull her fully onto his lap.

"Did you find who you were looking for?" he asked, other hand on her arm. She nodded, taking in a breath and preparing herself to tell him who it was she had really been looking for.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of someone in the kitchen area that was across from where they were sitting. Alarms went off in her head and she turned her head to fully look at the person, which made the alarms grow louder. It was a young woman, older than Molly, but younger than Q. She was familiar in the worst way possible.

The nice looking clothes were a stark contrast to the ratty old t-shirt dress that Q remembered her in - same going for how her brown hair now fell in soft curls rather than stringy pieces. Filling a glass with water so casually that the action seemed out of place considering what she had done with those hands before. Looking so innocent that no one would ever believe that she was the girl who tortured Q until she felt like her head was going to explode. Broke her down to her weakest point and left her there to put herself back together in fragmented pieces. And she was  _there_. Standing there. In the kitchen area. At the compound. How had she gotten in? This had to be a dream. One of her fucked up visions again. Shit, what if this entire thing was still just one big vision? Meaning she was still strapped to the chair in the Hydra base.

"Steve." Q managed out, grip tightening on him, mouth suddenly very dry, "Steve, what is going on?" she asked, eyes never leaving the girl at the sink. Watching as she turned and faced them, blood draining from her face at the sight of Q sitting on Steve's lap.

The glass slipped from her fingers, crashing against the floor and shattering into a few large pieces. The sound alone was enough to make Q jump, and echo around her brain in a way that felt like the shards of glass were stabbing every available space. She let out a cry of pain, squeezing her eyes shut and scrambling off of Steve's lap.

"I'm sorry!" the girl immediately apologized in an accented voice.

"Wanda, shit." Steve said at the same time, realizing who it was. If he was being honest, Wanda and Q seeing each other for the first time after what Wanda had done to her wasn't something he had taken into consideration when Q told him she was coming home. He was just so happy and relieved that she was finally coming back that he didn't want to do anything to ruin it.

"Hey, hey, it's okay." he moved off the couch to console Q, who was standing on the opposite side of the couch. Her eyes never left the spot where Wanda was currently on her knees and picking up pieces of glass from the floor.

"What is she doing here?" she asked, eyes wide with fear as Steve moved in front of her to block her view.

"That's Wanda. The girl I was telling you about." he referred to the many times he had brought Wanda up in conversation, both before and after she told him what she had done to Q.

"No, no, no you said she was a victim of Hydra. That,  _she_ , is no victim." Q glanced at him for a split second before looking back over her shoulder at Wanda, "She  _tortured_  me, Steve. Made me see…" she trailed off, not wanting to relive the horrors she was forced to see. Her eyes found their way back to his and she read his expression almost immediately. She let out a shaky breath, on the verge of tears, "You knew." she stated, not bothering with a question because she knew it was true, "You knew and you let her in? You brought her here? And then you let me come home without telling me?" she asked, even though she knew all the answers were  _yes_. She just wanted to hear him say it out loud. He didn't know what to say, meaning he ended up taking in a deep breath, which clearly was the wrong thing to do. She pushed away from him, biting down on her lower lip to stop herself from crying, and giving one last glance over to where Wanda was.

Without another word, she turned and walked away from him, not sure where she was going but knowing she needed to remove herself from the situation. The last resort Bucky had talked about. Her mind was going a mile a minute, all sorts of different explanations and ways to react running through. And none of them ended well. A ton of negative emotions were flooding her body: anger, betrayal, fear, worry, sadness, concern, all shocking her nervous system. And it left her body trying to figure out how to handle them, while balancing the sudden chaos inside her head.

Steve hesitated for a moment, knowing he should go after her, but also wanting to make sure Wanda was okay too. Though he knew the moment he hesitated, he made his choice. Plus, he rationalized, it might be better to let Q work through it on her own for a second - he wasn't sure how her head worked anymore, but from what he remembered in Croatia, she tended to get overwhelmed easily.

"Are you okay?" he asked, crouching down in front of Wanda and helping her pick up pieces of glass.

"I'm sorry." she apologized again, quietly, "I didn't know she was here. I would've - I should've stayed away." she sounded regretful of doing something as simple as getting a glass of water.

"It's okay." he assured her, "You would've run into her eventually." he gave her an easy smile, not wanting her to feel at fault for what happened. Because, in all honesty, it was mostly his fault for not telling Q in the first place. "You didn't cut yourself, right?" he asked, moving on to address any sort of wounds she might have gotten from the glass.

"No, no, I'm okay." she shook her head, hair falling like a curtain in front of her face, "Go. She needs you more than I do." she peered through the small section of space at him, eyes urgent, "I can clean this up on my own." she urged him, flicking her hands a bit in a gesture that told him to go. He did as she said, straightening up and going in the same direction that Q went in search for her.

What with the compound being so massive, it took a while for him to find her. Surprisingly, she was up on the roof, overlooking the campus with her arms crossed and back to him. He cleared his throat a bit, alerting her to his presence, but she didn't move or give any indication that she cared he was there.

"Queenie, I…" he trailed off, trying to figure out what he should say first, "I should've told you." he settled on, "And I'm sorry I didn't." his apology hung in the air for a long moment. He stepped closer, hoping to close the space between them - both literally and figuratively.

"Why is she here?" Q bit out, the venom in her voice clear and unlike anything Steve had heard before.

"She's part of the team, you know that." he reminded her with a gesture to her. She scoffed, shaking her head a bit.

"No, no, I know about a young girl named Wanda, who you painted as a victim - hell compared her to me! And then told me that she proved herself in Sokovia." she turned to face him, face red from angry tears.

"She did." he said matter of factly, keeping his hands on his hips, "And she was a victim -"

"No, she's not!" she cut him off swiftly, "She is  _not_ a victim, Steve. She did all that shit to me willingly! She fucked with my head!" she gestured to her head. Steve felt his anger flare, his protectiveness toward Wanda coming out as well,

"She did the same to me too!" he raised his voice a bit to match. Not so much his tone, but his words surprised her. She pulled back a bit, not realizing he had gone through something similar to her.

"And you still let her become a part of the team?" she asked quietly, almost in awe of the decision he made.

"Yes." he answered firmly. Of course there had been some hesitation in Wanda joining the Avengers, but he could understand her story more than most. A teenager letting a scientist experiment on them so that they could stop a war against their country. Sounded familiar. And she had proven herself, proving that she was on their side, time and time again. Now it was just about convincing Q of that too.

"What did she make you see?" she asked a question Steve hadn't been prepared for. He was ready for the argument, the fight between the two of them regarding the trustworthiness of Wanda.

"Uhm, it was...I was…" he trailed off thinking back to the vision he was forced into by Wanda in South Africa. He glanced at Q, a bit nervous in admitting what he saw because he knew it was based on one of his biggest fears at the time: being torn between two worlds, two women he loved. Shifting his weight, he took in a breath and began to tell her about the vision. The dance club, Peggy, her, the house, all of it. Her arms fell from where they were crossed over her chest to hang at her sides, becoming almost defeated while listening to the vision.

"Of course." she responded after he was finished, "All you had to live through was choosing a woman to stay with." she gestured lamely at him, "Meanwhile, I had to watch you  _die_. Over and over and  _over_  again." her voice broke a bit on that last part, "Because  _that's_ my biggest fear. You dying and it being my fault and not being able to do anything about it." she admitted, "And  _she_  made me live through it for what felt like  _years_." her voice cracked and she took in a broken breath, "She tortured me, Steve!" he flinched at how raw she sounded, "Did she tell you that?" he looked down at the ground, giving her an answer without saying anything, "Before or after you made her an official Avenger?" she asked, again getting nothing but silence. She scoffed, falling back on her foot, "

"She was scared -" Steve started to explain that day on the bench in D.C. and what had held Wanda back from telling him.

"So was I!" Q cried out, cutting him off and pairing her words a wide eyed look, "I was terrified, Steve!" she took in a shaky breath, wiping under her nose with the back of her hand, "And I thought - God, I don't know what I thought, but I certainly wasn't expecting her to be here! Or for you to be okay with it!" His eyes flashed in anger; even if he was protective over the girl, he still was working on forgiving Wanda for what she did to Q and didn't like being accused of anything but.

"I'm not!" he defended himself, looking back at her, "God, I'm not okay with it at all."

"You are! Because she's here!" she gestured to the general area of the compound, "You welcomed her onto the team because she, what?, crushed a few robots with her powers?" she scoffed, "Fuck, Steve." she shook her head a bit.

"She's a kid, Queenie." he pointed out, voice hard, "She didn't know what she was doing."

"Yes, she did!" Q cried out, eyes widening as she gestured wildly at Steve, "She used her weird little glowy hands and fucked with my head!"

"Because Hydra told her you were a threat!" Steve shouted back, defending Wanda and wanting Q to see the other side of things. She groaned in response, getting frustrated with his stubbornness, "She thought she was doing the right thing! Hydra fucked with her just as much as they fucked with you." he said matter of factly, jaw clenching a bit, "You have to know that. How else do you think she got those abilities?" he asked. She paused, gaze still holding his as her posture shifted a bit. Standing up a bit straighter, she crossed her arms over her chest as Steve continued, "Everything I told you about her was true. I left out some details because it's still hard to talk about what happened -"

"Yeah, I bet it's hard to talk about being forced to choose between two women who love you." she cut him off with a scoff, eyes rolling a bit. He glared at her, but didn't have a retaliation. What she had seen was much worse than what he had, but he was sure if Wanda had a bit more time like she had with Q, he'd seen something equally terrible.

"I'm not trying to use it as an excuse for the shit she did to you, Queenie." he softened his voice a bit, "But I just want you to try and see it from the other side." he raised his eyebrows a bit.

"I can." she lifted her chin a bit, "Thanks to those fuckers at Hydra, it's  _very_  easy for me to see the other side of things." she reminded him with a narrowing of her eyes, "And while she might be a victim of her circumstances, it does nothing to lessen the pain she put me through." she swallowed back the lump in her throat as memories of the visions started to creep back into her head, "She still tortured me, Steve. And it  _sucks_  coming here to find that apparently I'm just supposed to forgive her and move on."

"I'm not asking you to do that." he shook his head. She gave him a sad smile, arms crossing over her chest.

"Not directly, no." she pointed out, having noticed how long it took him to find her, even if he supposedly came after her right away. Something she loved about him was his ability to see the good in everyone, and forgive enough to have a relationship with them. But she couldn't do that. Not this time. 

"I'm sorry, Q." he apologized again, slumping down a bit in defeat. He wasn't sure what else he could do or say. She was standing her ground and holding her opinion on Wanda. Rightfully so, of course, but he didn't know what the next steps were. Especially since she was a part of the team and would be working with Steve more often than not in their continued efforts to find Rumlow.

"Maybe I should go get a hotel or something." she twisted her mouth to side, not really wanting to do that, but wondering if it would be the best option. She couldn't be around Wanda, not after all the girl had put her through.

"I'll go with you." Steve offered, not wanting her to leave so soon. He hated how quickly their reunion had been ruined.

"No, no, you should stay here. In case something happens with the Avengers or whatever." she waved her hand in the air casually, brushing it off, "I'll be okay." she promised him with a tight smile. The formal, polite one that he used to see in the beginning when they first met. The one he hated being on the receiving end now. Because he knew he fucked up.

"Don't leave, okay?" he asked of her, "We can get you another room. There's plenty of space." he reasoned, trying to find a way to get her to stay. She took in a deep breath, slipping her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. Turning her head to the side, she looked out to the forest area of the mountain range the compound was nestled in.

"I can't stay here, Steve." she looked back at him, "Not while knowing that she's right there. I mean, I don't feel  _safe_." she stressed, gesturing to herself. Steve's heart dropped to his stomach. It was his job to keep her safe, protect her from whatever sort of terrors were out there and he failed again. "And I know you aren't going to ask Wanda to leave because..." she trailed off, not finding the right words, but knowing she was correct. And she was. "I have to get out of here." she said after a moment, shaking her head and walking past him.

"Q..." he trailed off, turning to watch her go.

"Don't. No. You made your decision." she turned around and put her hand up to stop him from following her, "Just leave me alone." she said with an air of finality. He took in a breath, not liking the feeling of guilt returning to his shoulders. She gave him one last glance before turning and walking away, trying to ignore the twisting of her gut at the realization that maybe it  _wasn't_  a good idea to come back.

* * *

_A/N: Womp, womp, I know you all hate me, but I had to. I couldn't just **not**  talk about the consequences of Wanda v. Q! I promise it'll be okay tho, she's not going anywhere. Please feel free to let me know all your thoughts/comments/concerns._

_Also have you SEEN the Black Widow trailer?! What are your thoughts? I have so many ideas - especially concerning Dawson and Nat! LMK~ Thank you love you!_


	85. peace offering

Following the sounds of a song by a band she didn't know, Wanda made her way to Steve's room. Though she wasn't looking for him. The mug of hot chocolate was kept warm by the red energy pulsating softly from her palms. As she got closer to the bedroom, she had a brief thought that it would've been better to bring some sort of alcohol instead.

The music was much louder than it had been from down the hall, especially since the door was wide open. She peered into the room to see Steve's quasi-girlfriend crossing in front of the doorway, perfectly folded clothes in her hands. If she knew Wanda was there, she didn't say anything or even pause and look her way - entirely focused on her task at hand. Packing to go somewhere, even though she had just gotten there only a few hours earlier.

"Hi." Wanda tried to be heard over the music, but still there was no reaction from the other woman. She cleared her throat, but the woman ignored her again. Glancing to the soundsystem, she lifted one hand off the mug to extend a coil of energy to the system and turn the volume down drastically.

Startled by the sudden volume dip, Q stopped in her tracks. She glanced at the soundsystem, saw no one was there, then whirled around to see if anyone was behind her. Her eyes widened at the sight of Wanda momentarily, before narrowing. Though the grip on her shampoo bottles tightened, which gave away her fear of the younger girl standing across from her. Even if she was the adult, hell she was well past thirty years old, Q somehow never felt more like a scared at that moment.

"Hi." Wanda repeated herself, feeling herself shrink back a bit at the hard gaze she was receiving, "I, uhm, here." she extended the hot chocolate out toward Q who eyed it warily, "It's hot cocoa. I know you don't like coffee." she explained herself and the reasoning behind her actions in a lilted Eastern European accent Q had become accustomed to over the last couple of years.

"Right, because you've been in my head." she responded cooly, raising her eyebrows a bit at the younger girl. Wanda swallowed back the lump in her throat and shook her head enough so that part of her hair fell in front of her face to both hide from and hide herself.

"No, uh, Steve mentioned it." she corrected Q, "He talks about you a lot." she added with a glance at Q, hoping the mention of the man she loved would soften her a bit. The older woman studied her for a long moment, then took in a breath.

"I know what you're doing." she said matter of factly. Unceremoniously, she dumped the bottles she was holding into her suitcase, then planted her hands on her hips, "Coming here with that little peace offering of yours, bringing up Steve...all in hopes of me forgiving you." she read through Wanda easily, "It's not going to work." she shook her head, "Hot chocolate can't fix everything, trust me, I've tried." she sighed, glancing at her suitcase for a moment. Wanda chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, a little disappointed that her gesture of good will hadn't done anything. But she should've known better; if she was in Q's shoes, she probably wouldn't have fallen for it either. She set the mug of hot chocolate on the dresser that was by the door, still standing in the doorway since Q hadn't welcomed her in the room in any way.

"I'm sorry." she said quietly after a moment, "I'm sorry for what I did to you." she pulled down the sleeves of her cardigan over her hands. A nervous habit, but also to show that she wasn't going to do anything.

"You are now. You weren't then." Q stepped over to her suitcase to rearrange things around, "And the only reason you are  _now_  is because you have something to lose." she pointed out.

"Maybe," Wanda's brow furrowed a bit, "But maybe that's also because, before, I had thought I already lost everything." her point made Q pause, being reminded of what Steve had said on the roof a little bit earlier. "Turns out I hadn't." she finished with a sad smile directed nowhere, wrapping her arms around herself as if to try to contain the grief inside of her. A pose Q knew well; from seeing it on Steve countless times, and her heart went out to the girl for a moment before her head reminded her of all the pain she was put through under Wanda's hands. The visions crept back in; Steve's dead body heavy in her arms, eyes unfocused and last words echoing - telling her it was her fault he died.

"That doesn't excuse your actions." Q shook her head a bit, "We've all been through shit, most of us don't go around  _literally_  fucking with people's heads." she motioned to her head with her hand, swirling it around in a circle a bit. Wanda pursed her lips because while Q was right, it was a little ironic coming from her considering the things she had done in her past. All of which she knew from spending time in her head.

"I know this." she tried not to snap back, not wanting to get into a fight with the other woman, but her voice was tight, "And I'm trying to do better. Just like you." she added as both a dig and a reminder. Q paused, half bent over her suitcase, to glance over at Wanda and then straighten up.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked with a narrowing of her eyes. Wanda shrugged a bit, trying to control her nerves as appealed to one of her victims. Something she hadn't had to do before what happened in Sokovia. Try and convince others that she was trustworthy and could be of some use rather than a hindrance.

"You did bad things when you were my age," she reminded Q about how she knew about her past and just how  _young_  she was, "and then tried to...make yourself better." she awkwardly finished in English, then repeated herself in Russian, "Be a better person." she sounded more confident with the phrase in one of her native languages.

Although Q's heart returned, a small piece still ached to comfort the girl. The realization that the person you had become was not the person you wanted to be was something Q knew all too well. She had been there, been that angry teenager that was so against the world and wanted to cause as much pain as it had caused her. Then she was forced to see the consequences of her decisions and actions, just as Wanda had in South Asia with Ultron. Her adoption into SHIELD, while had been rough, had been the best thing for her. Just as Wanda's adoption into the Avengers had been.

Q studied the girl for a moment, wondering how she had gotten into this situation. She was so young, but somehow so old too. Thrust into a war at such a young age and forced to grow up. Q suddenly thought of her younger sister, even if Molly was a bit younger than Wanda. She couldn't bear to think of anything like that happening to her. The loss of a childhood, of innocence.

And it was painfully clear that Wanda wanted to move past what she had done, not only to Q personally, but in the name of Hydra because she had been under the impression that she had been on the right side. And while Q had never joined or worked for Hydra, she could understand wanting to leave a painful past behind. Start anew.

"Listen, I get it." Q gave her a small smile, stepping away from her suitcase as she did so, "I do. And while I can appreciate you wanting to turn over a new leaf, I'm just…" she trailed off and let out a breath, "I don't trust you." she raised her shoulders up, "Not after you tortured me, and Steve, with some of our biggest fears. How can I?" she asked with a gesture to Wanda, "How do I know that this isn't one big mind fuck?" she laughed a bit, "I'm  _terrified_  of you, Wanda. I mean, you have to understand that, right?" Wanda swallowed back a lump in her throat, nodding a bit because she did. It was strange; in the past, hearing that someone was scared of her was a good thing. She had succeeded. But now, she just felt...bad. It made her sick to her stomach. She didn't want people to be scared of her or what she would do to them. She didn't want to hurt them, she wanted to save them.

"I am sorry." she repeated herself, "And I'm really trying to make it better. Prove myself too." she added as if that would help. Q nodded, taking it at face value. She wasn't going to believe anything Wanda said in terms of apologies and doing the right things until she saw it with her own two eyes. And even then, she'd have to have someone back her up in that it actually happened and wasn't just a trick of the light - or whatever sort of weird powers the girl had.

"Well, good luck with that." she sighed, then turned back to her suitcase, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to finish packing." she picked up a folded shirt and refolded it just to have something to do with her hands.

"You're not really leaving, are you?" Wanda asked, stepping into the room a bit, but stopping in her tracks at Q's warning look. "Why?" she asked another question, her first getting an answer on it's own.

"Because I don't feel safe while you're here. And I can't be around you." she put it plainly, without care of Wanda's feelings, "I can't be around you because I'm still trying to deal with what you did to me." the knife was twisted a bit deeper into Wanda's gut. Having PTSD was one thing, but being the source of someone's PTSD was an entirely different feeling that was never talked about.

"What about Steve? Is he going with you?" she tried to ignore the urge to run away or puke or do both. The constant reminder of what she had done and how she had made Q feel was weighing on her. Though maybe she deserved it. The Avengers hadn't held it over her head or reminded her of what she did as much as Q was. She had to finish her penance somehow, someway. And maybe that was through Q.

"He's staying here." she huffed out, clearly not happy about it, "He knew about what happened to me and how you were involved, but didn't tell me. Just let me come ho...he just let me come here." she paused and reworded whatever she was going to say. She shifted some things around in her suitcase, mumbling under her breath about how she never should've come back to the compound.

"He was really excited about you coming here." Wanda commented, tucking her hair behind her ears, "Talked about it all the time." she continued with a small smile, "It was kind of funny to see him so…" she trailed off, "Normal?" she ended like it was a question rather than an accurate description of how Steve was acting. As if the word didn't fit. Yet somehow, Q knew exactly what she meant.

"Like he was just Steve instead of Captain America?" she asked with a fond smile. Wanda nodded, arms wrapping around her midsection and rolling back on her heels a bit.

"I think it's good that you're here." she nodded to herself a bit more as if turning over the idea in her head, "Better if you stayed." she added with a raise of her eyebrows. Q took in a deep breath, looking away from the younger girl and at a random spot on the wall in front of her.

"I want to stay." she admitted without thinking about it, "But I can't if you're here." she added with a glance in Wanda's direction, "And you're not going to leave," she continued with a slight shake of her head, "because that would mean giving up the one good thing to happen to you and I know how tight your grip on this is." she gestured around the room, meaning the compound and the Avengers themselves rather than the room specifically, "You'll do anything to stay on the  _actual_ right side again." her voice was heavy with implications of past actions taken.

"I can stay out of your way." Wanda tried to come up with a solution that would work for both of them, "You won't even know I'm here." she lifted her chin up a bit, confident in her skills to hide in the shadows and blend in with a crowd - just as she had for years before. The seemingly easy fix seemed too easy. There were too many variables. Too many things that she would have to accept and let go.

"I don't know…" she chewed on the inside of her bottom lip, "Just...this has been a lot for me." she admitted, falling back on one foot and giving her a pained smile, "I need a second to clear my head and think about this." Ever since Wanda appeared, her entire body had been buzzing much more than normal, trying to figure out what to do and how to react and what was coming next. She was exhausted just from the fifteen minute conversation they had.

"Okay." Wanda nodded, stepping back a bit into the doorway again, "I will leave you alone then." she agreed finally. Q gave her a relieved smile, shoulders relaxing a bit as the girl shuffled out of her room. Following after her, Q shut the door with a solid click - catching sight of the now cold mug of hot chocolate on top of the dresser. Steve's voice echoed in the back of her head:  _she's just a kid._  Molly's face followed his words since that was the only other kid Q knew. The familiar heartache returned, causing her to turn away from the mug and step back over to the sound system to turn up the volume on her playlist.

The muffled sounds of Metric picked up again, causing Dawson to groan inwardly. Only he was privy to knowing what that meant. Q was having one of her episodes again. He knew he should go make sure she was okay.

"That's the second time she's played that song." Nat pointed out from where she was leaning against the dresser in the spare room he had found and claimed earlier in the day.

"Yeah," he sighed, hands going to settle on his hips, "The playlist is only four songs to begin with." his finger twirled in the air, signaling the repetition process that was about to happen.

"This happens a lot, huh?" the question seemed rhetorical so Dawson didn't respond, just raised his eyebrows up instead, "Should you go make sure she's okay?" she asked a follow up question and he let out a sigh.

"She's fine. She can handle it on her own." he crossed his arms over his chest, wanting to get back to the conversation they had been having before Q's terrible music taste rudely interrupted them. Nat stared at him for a moment before slowly nodding and glancing around the room they were in.

"So, how long are you back for?" she finally asked the question both had been dancing around for the past hour. Nat had found him in his new bedroom, both pretending to be surprised at the sight of the other. Exchanging pleasantries that were too tight and tense to be considered polite.

"T-B-D." he kept it simple. Mostly because he had no idea. Q had told him about the Accords, but he wasn't quite sure what they were going to do until the documents were dropped into their laps. Wait around? Pretend they were part of the team again? He wasn't sure which was worse.

"Well, let me know if you need anything." Nat tossed her curls over her shoulder. Her hair was longer than it was the last time he had seen her. He liked it longer, "This place pretty much has everything and if it doesn't, Tony gets it before we even know we need it." she said casually, glancing at him to watch him bristle at the mention of Tony's name. An involuntary reaction to one of his many sworn enemies.

"Great. Good to know. Thanks, Nat." he managed out in a clipped tone. She tried not to smile at the reaction she so easily got out of him. He took in a breath and let out some of his annoyance that had built up at Stark's name, glancing away from his...whatever Nat was now. "Anything else I should know about?" he hoped the question came off as more related to the compound rather than Nat personally.

"Depends." she placed her hands behind her on top of the dresser so she could lean back on it fully, "Are you asking about me? Or about the WI-FI password?" she raised her eyebrows a bit and he let out a scoff.

"Clearly the password." he played her game a bit, rolling his eyes and then fixing her with a look. She smirked at him, relaxing her shoulders a bit as she let out a breath.

"Nothing's changed." she raised her eyebrows a bit, finishing with, "But everything's changed." he pursed his lips, not happy with the answer she gave him, but knowing she was right. He was there, though, and planned on staying as long as he could. So that had to count for something.

A little while later, Steve knocked once on his bedroom door all while knowing that Q probably couldn't hear it over the volume of the song she was listening to. He pushed open the door carefully. There was a part of him that worried she had already left. Again without saying goodbye. History repeating.

Instead, to his relief, he found her lying on the floor of his room. Eyes trained on a spot on the ceiling, her arms and legs were spread out in a snow angel style. If it were any other time, he'd take a picture, or at least make fun of her. But at that moment, he just stepped over to the sound system and paused the song that had been playing. If the sounds of the guitar and other instruments were loud, the silence that came after was deafening. A wince crossed her features, causing him to regret turning it off so abruptly. Maybe it wasn't just her leaning into her teenage angst.

"Are you trying to blow out your ear drums?" he raised his eyebrows up, gaining a scoff from her.

"Sorry, Dad." she droned out. He grinned a bit, grateful that she was still focused on the ceiling so that she didn't see. There was a brief moment of quiet which she took advantage of to recenter herself, then sit herself up, moving so her back was against the bed and she could face Steve more fully.

"You're still here." Steve stated the obvious, leaning against the wall by the sound system. She gave him a small smile and then let out a sigh.

"So I am." she agreed, sounding almost surprised herself. Even though they were quiet for a moment, the next question that he wanted to ask was loud and clear, "I don't know." she answered before he said it out loud, "I don't want to leave," the unspoken  _you_  directed at him was obvious, just as obvious as the  _but_ coming after.

"We can figure it out." he said before she could tell him the reason why she thought she should leave. It was a big, understandable reason. But not one that they couldn't work through if she stayed. He pushed off the wall, crossing over the room and lowering himself down to sit beside her on the floor, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you." he apologized again, "I was just so...happy to have you back," he turned his head to look at her, "I didn't want anything to ruin it." he admitted with a sad smile. The guilt was apparent which made her heart clench a bit. "I want you to stay, Queenie." he reminded her, "And if that means finding a way to make you feel safe, then that's the least I can do." he assured her, "It's my job after all." she gave him a half smile.

"That's my line." she nudged him, referring back to the excuse she would use all the time as his appointed, personal SHIELD analyst. He gave her a quick grin and then turned his gaze away. Leaning her head on his shoulder, she reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers together.

"Don't leave. Not again." he pleaded with her softly. The beat of her heart filled her ears for a moment, her brain putting pieces of the puzzle together. There were ways they could work on this, together.

"Okay." she found herself agreeing with him, knowing that he was on her side again. That he had seen his mistake and was now working on a way to fix it. All for her. Always for her.

* * *

_A/N: She's staying! And they're gonna figure it out! Sweetness! The bbs. I hope you liked this chapter - I know it was mostly dialogue but idk that's good sometimes. Let me know your thoughts and feels and comments. Thank you always for reading._


	86. wait another day

Q had come to a decision: she was going to tell Steve about Bucky. She had held onto her secret for entirely too long and at this point, it was now hindering her relationship with him more than anything else. Despite the massive secret between them, things were good. Settled. And she knew Bucky was doing well - from the brief letters she had gotten from him (he had apparently recently discovered the Harry Potter books).

This was the perfect time to tell Steve. She had no other reason not to. Only hoping that he wouldn't be as angry or disappointed in her for keeping Bucky away from him. Once he heard her reasoning behind her decision, certainly he would at least  _understand_  why she had kept it from him.

After their fight and make up regarding Wanda, things had been good between them. And as much as she didn't want to mess anything up, she knew that they couldn't move forward if she was still keeping such a large secret from him. That and she knew she was being a little hypocritical for getting angry at Steve for not telling her about Wanda when she hadn't told him about Bucky.

Despite how many people were in the Avengers' compound at all times, she rarely ran into anyone. Everyone's schedules were so different; from working on the mission to training to other things, there wasn't really a time she'd see all the Avengers together beside update meetings on Rumlow or a different mark.

Over the last week, she had done her best in lending a hand to track down Rumlow. It felt good to be doing something useful again, rather than selfishly searching for a long lost family member. Doing it with Steve felt even better. Before she left, they worked together a bit which was different than what both of them were used to, but it was a good different. If anything, it helped them grow together and discover new things to love.

Being back meant getting a second - or third chance. There was no way she was going to fuck it up again.

"Yo," Dawson's voice pulled her from her thoughts. She glanced over her shoulder to see him pushing himself off the couch so he could step over to where she was standing. "Uh, here." he handed out a small envelope toward her. Brow furrowing, she cautiously took it, seeing that it was marked with Steve's slanted handwriting: CLUE ONE. Confusion clouded her brain, making it impossible for her to focus on anything else except the reasoning behind the envelope and what the clue was for.

"I'm guessing you're not allowed to tell me what's going on?" she gestured to him with the envelope. He shoved his hands into his pockets, eyes squinting a bit as if she was the one who was being confusing,

"Clearly Rogers set up some sort of scavenger hunt for your birthday. The prize most likely being him." he spoke as if he was talking to a child and not a….now thirty-one year old woman. Her mouth opened a bit while her eyes went to the envelope again, turning it over in her hands. Her birthday. "Good luck." Dawson clicked his tongue against the side of his mouth. He turned to walk away from her but then doubled back, "And, uh, happy birthday." a half smile tugged at his features as he reached out to pull Q into a quick hug, "Let me know when you're done with that thing and I'll give you your gift." his finger waggled around the envelope in her hands, and then he walked away without another word - he had done his part, gotten the game started.

If she was being honest, she had completely forgotten about her birthday. So focused on dealing with her trauma and getting better, then the additional conversation she had to have with Steve took up more space in her brain than she cared to admit. Not that her birthday was something she looked forward to to begin with. She used to. She liked celebrating her birthday - not in a  _big_  way, but with something simple. Like the time she and Dawson shotgunned a couple of beers and had a rom-com fest. Then came the search for Bucky and the birthdays that passed ended up just being a painful reminder instead of a celebration. She was missing the one person she wanted to celebrate with the most. So she stopped celebrating and just let the day pass without making it a big deal - even though Dawson would always get her something small or do something nice without pointing it out. Why would this year be any different?

Carefully opening the envelope, she pulled out the small note that was written in Steve's handwriting. She read it once and then again, using the second time to absorb the important details so she didn't get too distracted by the fact that he had apparently taken time to set up an entire scavenger hunt for her birthday. Something he knew she would love, and something that would keep her mind focused on one thing - just not the thing she wanted it to be focused on.

The first clue led her outside where there was a small garden of sorts beginning. There was a bench she had sat on a couple times with a book or her journal when the environment of the compound got too heavy for her to work through. Sitting in the center of the bench was a puzzle box of sorts, clearly waiting for her to solve it.

While she knew she didn't  _have_  to go through all the steps to find Steve - it became pretty clear to her that he was waiting for her in their bedroom, it was still a little fun to work through all the puzzles and clues he had left for her. He had spent a lot of time on the games so she wasn't going to throw it all out the window. That, and it reminded her that he still cared about her and knew her well enough to understand how fun it would be for her. An expression of his love for her. So she would finish the word search for him, just as she unlocked the puzzle box in the garden and figured out the riddle Dawson had given her.

With her final clue leading her back to their bedroom, she leaned against the doorframe for a moment and watched Steve adjust the projector a bit more so it was centered with the makeshift screen he had set up. A clearing of her throat got his attention, a look of surprise coming over his face.

"You were much faster than I thought you'd be." the look of surprise was explained while he stepped away from the projector. She shrugged, one hand digging into the box of Lucky Charms that had housed one of the clues.

"I have a super brain now, remember?" Though she wasn't completely over her PTSD - and never would be, she was at a point where she could joke about it or remind them both of the things that had changed without it being painful. Considering what she said with a raise of his eyebrows, he planted his hands on his hips and moved away from the projector so that he could step over to her.

"Well, congratulations and happy birthday." he combined the two and added a quick kiss for good measure.

"Are you my prize?" she murmured with a quirk of her eyebrows. He fought the smile on his face, giving her another kiss before responding,

"Partially." with a step back, he let her see what he had been setting up. Her having been so focused on him at first, she had missed the rest of the room. It had been decorated with soft twinkle lights and what seemed to be a pillow fort built on the bed complete with a cooler of beer on the nightstand and a bowl of popcorn with M&M's mixed in next to it.

"I didn't know if you wanted a big party or not, so I figured I'd play it safe." he explained a bit, reminding her that they never got a chance to celebrate her birthday together before this.

"No, no this is...exactly what I need this year." she assured him with a happy smile. The feeling that had wrapped its arms around her during their time in Croatia returned for the first time since. And as much as she wanted to lean into it, the reminder of the conversation she needed to have with Steve was picking at the edges - trying to get inside. The rolling of her stomach at the thought of finally having the conversation with him was enough to make her grimace a bit. Though she didn't want to ruin the day, she knew she needed to tell him. It didn't matter if it was her birthday or not.

"Say what's in your head." he prompted - having caught sight of her expression and immediately growing concerned. A tired smile crossed her features at the familiar phrase, if only because there was so  _much_  going on inside her head.

"No, I just...I have to tell you something." she swallowed, only to see him shake his head.

"Don't." he denied her, surprisingly so, "Let's just celebrate, okay? It can wait another day." he sounded so sure of what he was saying despite not knowing what it was about. She hesitated for a second, knowing she should push back but he didn't let her, "It's your birthday, Queenie. It can wait." a strong, encouraging smile came over his features, letting her realize that even though it was her birthday, he needed to do this for her. In a both apologetic and forgiving way. She didn't care about ruining it for herself, but she didn't want to ruin it for him.

"Okay, right, you're right." she furrowed her brow a bit and laughed a little, "It's my birthday." he grinned at her, pulling her in for a kiss and then murmuring,

"So old now." he teased her in a familiar way that always made her stomach flutter; it was a reminder that they were okay.

"Says the almost hundred year old man." she shot back with a smirk. He rolled his eyes at her before accepting a kiss.

The rest of the day was spent together in bed, watching Q's favorite movies with beers and the popcorn mix she had introduced to him on his birthday. They cuddled in the makeshift pillow fort, comfortably fitting together like one of the puzzles he had her solve earlier in the day. She quoted along with the movies, including her very well practiced sound effects, while he was pleasantly amused and caught himself watching her more than the movies. For the first time in a long time, it was normal again; no mention of what had happened in the past or what was going to happen in the future.

The scavenger hunt and movie marathon were only two of the many presents Steve had for her. There were two given with his head in between her legs, one with him fully inside of her and then there was one final one after the first three gifts had subsided. He rolled back from where he had gone into the drawer of the nightstand, settling on his side so he could face her. Face still flushed from the previous gifts, she gave him a curious look.

"Whatcha got there?" her voice was a bit breathless, sounding like she had just run a mile even though both of them knew she would never do that willingly.

"A birthday gift." he grinned at her, tracing the edge of the average sized box with his finger almost tauntingly. She eyed him, wanting to play the game, but also just wanting another present. Her birthday selfishness was being coaxed out more and more as the day continued. It wasn't jewelry, that much she could tell. And it was too small of a box to be any sort of clothing. He poked the box forward with his finger until it was in the space between them. The excitement rolling off of him in waves was enough for her to reach out and take it.

With his eyes on her, reminiscent of an impatient, happy child on Christmas morning, she carefully opened the box. Nestled inside was a small cube of some sort that was decorated with different buttons and switches on all sides. She experimented with some of them, noticing the resistance was different on a few, as was the texture on others.

"I was doing some research on your...you know," Steve started to explain, getting her attention again, "And while there's no fix all for anything like that, apparently these sorts of fidget toys are supposed to help with distractions and settling the mind." he spoke not unlike how she did when she was rattling off whatever sort of research she had done. Medical and informative. He gave her a quick smile, "Internet, so helpful." he summarized which made her grin.

"I love it. Thank you." she moved forward to give him a soft kiss, which he returned eagerly before letting her go. Even though the gift was small, the meaning behind it was big. He had taken the time to find something that would be helpful to her and would be of use. It made her heart thrum and her love for him grow a bit more.

The rest of her birthday was celebrated a bit later in the night. After spending most of it with Steve in their room, she wandered out to find Dawson with both a gift for her and two small cupcakes he had gotten from the nearest town over. He gave her a two thin wristbands, not unlike the modified balance bracelet she had worn and used once before, that allowed her to send out a small vibration that her brain would focus on whenever she was feeling overwhelmed or stressed out. They were thick enough to cover the gnarly scars left over by von Strucker's torture so while it helped her chaotic mind settle, it also replaced a painful reminder of what she had been through.

The surprise gifts continued throughout the night, ranging from small to big. A personalized hot chocolate mug and subscription to some sort of hot chocolate box of the month from Sam, a crossword book from Maria, and even Nat, who had been barely speaking to her since her return, had left her a tracksuit in the bedroom. Fitted with technology that Q didn't understand, it was the closest thing she would ever get to a superhero's uniform. She had gotten a quick text from Sharon - followed by a hint that the CIA would be contacting her soon for a follow-up interview, and surprisingly, even the Vision had wished her a happy birthday (with as much emotion as the AI could muster). All in all, her birthday had been a surprise wrapped in more surprises. It was a celebration she wasn't expecting, but one that she was grateful to get. More so because it made her feel like she was home. Finally.

Which was why she had to tell Steve about Bucky. So that there was nothing else between them, holding either of them back or anything that could be a threat to their future. She had spent too long destroying everything good in her life as soon as it got good and this was her opportunity to stop the cycle.

With her birthday celebration over and done with, Q returned her attention back to her conversation with Steve. She had planned out how she would bring up the subject before, what she would say, how she would explain herself and her choices. With her heightened analytical abilities, she was able to truly predict the various outcomes and outliers, making her pro and con lists and other graphs and charts much more detailed. It just came down to tweaking it to fit the timeline.

Which seemed to be constantly changing - something she should've known after her plan to tell Steve about her feelings went wildly off the rails way back in D.C., but old habits die hard. A solid tip about Rumlow's whereabouts from a source in Lagos took precedence over a long lost family member. Bucky could wait, an international terrorist could not.

"You sure you don't want to come?" Steve asked as he suited up for the trip. Rather appreciatively, she watched the material stretch over his body for a moment before shaking her head.

"No, no we both know I wouldn't be of any help." she pointed out with a reminder. Even despite the skills gained from her time tracking down Bucky, there was nothing she could add to the team that was already formed. Her role of sniper could be delegated to someone else like Sam and his bird's eye view, and there was no living up to Wanda and her abilities. The hand to hand combat she knew could be handled better by Nat, and Steve took care of the super soldier category, especially considering her lack of general super soldierdom. Quick thinking paired well in most situations - including what would happen in Lagos, but the ability to execute and react just as fast was where Q lacked.

"Still. Be nice to have you there." the attempt to hide his worry had failed. Not that it ever succeeded in the first place; from the moment he asked if she wanted to come, Q knew it wasn't because he thought she'd be a good asset in the field but because he was nervous about coming back and her not being there again. Just like before.

"You'd be distracted." While she didn't want to argue, she did want to remind him of the cons of her being there, "Worrying about me, when you should be worrying about what Rumlow's up to in Lagos." she pointed out and he heaved a sigh, knowing she was right, "I'll be right here when you get back." his eyebrows rose at her light promise.

"Right there?" his gloved hand gestured to the spot she was sitting, "In that exact spot?" an unamused look crossed her features at the literal meaning he took. He grinned at her, leaning over to give her a quick kiss.

"Now, please, go get him so we can move on." she waved her hand in the air a bit. She wanted Rumlow to pay for his crimes as much as the next person. And once he was taken care of, it would mean she would finally be able to talk to Steve about Bucky.

"Yes, ma'am." he nodded once and then gave her a quick grin, "I'll go arrest your ex-friends-with-benefits for you." Placing her hand to her heart, she fluttered her eyes dramatically as if in one of the many rom-coms she loved.

"My hero." she pretended to swoon which made him laugh. It wouldn't be the first time someone she knew arrested someone she had sex with, but it would probably be the last.

With a grin, she pushed off of the bench she had been sitting on in the quasi-locker room that the Avengers kept their uniforms. She slid her hands over the red and white pattern of his uniform, moving them up to tighten the straps that kept his shield secured on his back. He didn't stop her, liking the familiarity of the motions she did just as she had back in New York.

"Love you." her eyes flicked up to meet his, looking for the small speck of green. The corner of his mouth quirked up a bit,

"Love you too." he told her. His hands settled lightly on her hips, just enough to pull her closer against him. There was a beat before he leaned in to deliver a sure kiss. One full of the love he declared out loud, plus a little extra. She responded by deepening it a bit, in an attempt to persuade him to come back. As if he needed any extra convincing those days.

"Ready when you are, Steve." Nat called out casually as she walked by the two of them. She gave Q a glance and a curt nod, reminding her of the rebuilding Q would have to once everyone got back from Lagos. Nat had been a good surprise of a friend and Q hated that she had lost someone like her. And was also a bit afraid to be on Nat's bad side.

The reminder of working on her friendship with Nat then reminded Q as to why she needed to do so; she had been gone looking for Bucky. The thought connected to the reminder that Q needed to talk to Steve about what she had  _really_ been doing and why.

"We'll talk when you get back?" she didn't bother telling him they needed to talk - it would spark a whole slew of nerves and distraction he didn't need. He nodded, giving her a quick grin and not seeing past the casualness of her question. They always talked. Especially after a mission or op. It was part of his process.

"Of course." With his agreement, he gave her a quick kiss goodbye and then headed off in the same direction as Nat.

They would talk when he got back. She would make sure of it.

* * *

_A/N: Felt terrible about not being about to get a chapter out on Sunday so here's a Christmas chapter for you all! Hope you enjoyed reading a little fluff (I guess?) before we dive into Civil War! Gah! So much is going to happen, I'm so excited! LMK all of your thoughts and concerns. And if you celebrate, have a very merry Christmas! Love you all so much._


	87. no perfect time

" _Why does my pear keep endin' up lookin' like an ass?" Bucky murmured to himself as he erased the line for what felt like the hundredth time._

" _Maybe it has something to do with the person drawing it." Steve shot back, gaining an unamused look from his best friend. He smirked at his friend and turn back to his sketch pad, glancing at the basket of fruit that was set in front of them._

_The beginner's class they were taking at the community college had tasked them to draw still objects as life-like as possible. Something easy for someone like Steve, who drew even when he didn't mean to, but Bucky was struggling._

" _I can't believe I let you talk me into this." the older friend sighed heavily, trying to draw his pear again._

" _I didn't talk you into anything." he shook his head, premature laughter creasing the corners of his lips, "You were the one chatting up that blonde at the movies last night who said she took this class."_

" _And she ain't even here." Bucky grumbled, once again erasing the curve of the pear he had drawn. Steve suppressed his laughter by furrowing his brow and pretending to really concentrate on the shadows of the bowl. "Serves me right, I guess." he mumbled, playing the victim as he usually did whenever a girl stood him up or dumped him. For as many girls he charmed, there were plenty who didn't fall for his tricks. Of course, those were the ones he focused on most._

" _You're so fuckin' dramatic, Buck." Steve rolled his eyes, even though he was still a bit amused by his friends pity party, "You probably don't even remember her name." he cast a side eye in a challenging manner._

" _I sure as shit do." he widened his eyes at Steve, "It was…" he trailed off as he wracked his brain for the name of the girl at the movies, "Kim." he settled on sounding confident in his very wrong answer._

" _Georgia." he corrected his friend, who waved him off with a 'psh' noise. It was close enough. Steve rolled his eyes again, amused by his friend's reaction._

" _Listen, Stevie, whaddya say we head up to the Stork Club tonight?" Bucky was already moving on to the next girl he would no doubt find success with. To make up for the loss of the art class blonde._

" _And watch you dance with every available dame - woman, in there?" Those nights always went the same: Bucky would drag him to some club in the city where he'd sweet talk two very pretty dames, only to introduce Steve and the girls would realize he was the friend Bucky had been referencing - who clearly didn't live up to the picture that had been painted. And while Bucky would dance with one of the girls, the other would go freshen up or get another drink and never return. Leaving Steve to sit at the table and watch Bucky dance and flirt until he got bored and went home or met up with Becca at the diner._

" _This time it'll be different." Bucky swore just as he always did, "Listen, I'll invite Becca and her friends too. We'll make it a group thing. It'll be fun." he assured his friend, knowing that Steve was more likely to agree with there were more people; that way he wasn't left alone if Bucky found someone to dance with._

" _Alright, okay, damn." he shoved his friend back, annoyed with the incessant nudging Bucky was giving him, "I'll go." His agreement came with a slump of his shoulders, defeated per usual by his charismatic friend. Even though most times it was Bucky going along with whatever Steve's reckless plan was, there were a few times where Bucky had the wheel and Steve was just along for the ride. This seemed to be one of those times._

" _Good." Bucky grinned at his friend before gesturing to him with his pencil and then motioning to his sketch pad, "Now, c'mon, help me make this pear look less like an ass."_

The screens in front of him suddenly flipped off, cutting off the reporter mid-sentence. Not that it mattered. All the news outlets had been saying the same thing for the past month as they continued to report on what happened in Lagos. How the Avengers had killed almost a dozen Wakandan volunteers. Not how they had stopped an international terrorist threatening to release a toxin of some sort. Never the good news.

"You have to stop torturing yourself." the sound of his girlfriend's voice made him turn around in the desk chair. She was leaning against the doorframe with one hand on the remote, the other wrapped around her midsection. "It's been a month." she reminded him while setting the remote on the dresser and stepping into their bedroom. She shrugged out of her blazer so she could set it on the bed as she continued to walk over to him. Straddling his lap, her hands immediately went to softly comb through his hair.

"How were the interviews?" he changed the subject before she could chastise him any longer. She fixed him with a knowing look, seeing through his game rather easily. He adopted a rather innocent look in hopes that it would sway her a bit. He needed a distraction.

"Fine." she summed up simply, playing along for a moment. She had just gotten back from a few days in Berlin where she had been interviewing with different personnel on the CIA's task force. "The job seems right up my alley and I'd be working with Sharon again which would be nice." she continued to run her hands through his hair - soothing both of them at the same time, "Like SHIELD but with less, you know,  _Hydra_." Eyes widening, she made a face to go along with her comparison, "So, now we wait and see." she shrugged a bit as an end to her story. In an effort to try and play off her nerves surrounding the job limbo she was currently stuck in. All of her eggs were in this basket.

"You're gonna get it." The support he gave sounded confident, which made her smile a bit.

"I don't know." Again, she shrugged, trying to play it off as if it were no big deal, "And I don't know if I'm going to take it anyway."

"Why? You said it was right up your alley." She moved her hands down to the side of his face, tilting his chin up a bit so she could look at him more.

"Because it means leaving you again." she pointed out a fact neither one of them brought up while she had been going through the process, "And I don't want to do that again. I like being here with you." he gave her a soft smile. The reassurance that she wasn't planning on leaving any time soon was comforting.

"I'm not going to be the reason why you give up a great job." Even with the comforting feeling spreading throughout his body, he knew that this was a different situation. It wasn't her leaving with no warning to go off on some adventure for two years. This was a job, something that she needed to feel like a normal person again. He wasn't going to stand in her way, "We can do long distance." he suggested, knowing the conversation they were about to have wasn't meant to be had yet. She stared at him for a moment as if trying to figure out the correct response. Then, she relaxed and let out a slight laugh with a shake of her head.

"Listen, I don't even have an offer yet." she reminded him, her hands moving to his shoulders, "Let's just wait until it becomes official and then we can have the long distance conversation." As much as she was grateful for him suggesting long distance - meaning he wanted her to take the job and trusted her enough not to be scared of her leaving, it wasn't a conversation she wanted to have yet. There was a bigger one she needed to have first.

Though her trip was supposed to be to Berlin for her interviews, what Steve didn't know was that she had made a quick pit stop to Romania to check in on Bucky on her way there. Just to make sure he was doing okay. He was, just as his letters told her, but it was still nice to see him again. He even, surprisingly, got her a small birthday trinket and an orange. Saying something about family tradition and how he always gave Rebecca one on her birthday. Learning about her grandmother and her sibling relationship with Bucky, the little glimpses into a past life she never knew, never failed to make her smile.

If anything, her short visit supported the fact that she needed to tell Steve about him. He was much better than when she first found him. His memory and mental state had improved greatly. He was more...personable than before and she could tell that the man was beginning to come out more. She was no longer afraid of the threat Bucky posed to Steve - though a part of her was afraid of the threat Steve posed to Bucky, but that wasn't something she wanted to focus on at the moment.

She hadn't been able to tell him after Lagos simply because she was convinced the timing wasn't right. He had been upset over what happened in Lagos, and adding her confession about Bucky wasn't going to help. Then she had gotten the invite to Berlin shortly after the debriefing and post-Lagos meetings ended. She had come to the conclusion that there would be no perfect time to tell him. Just like she had learned many a times before. But before she was able to tell him right then and there about Bucky - which she was ready to do, she saw that he was staring off into space. A cloudy look in his eyes and the way his jaw clenched just a bit was enough to tell her that something was taking over his thoughts.

"Say what's in your head." she prompted, sliding a thumb over his cheek in an attempt to get his eyes back on hers. Once his blue eyes met hers, he let out a sigh and gave her a sad smile.

"Lagos." he put it simply but both of them knew it was much more complicated than that, "I should've...realized Rumlow's game sooner. The bomb vest...But he said  _Bucky_  and I…" he trailed off as he tried to explain the feeling behind the moment. Like he had been reverted back to the pre-serum version of himself. The entire world fell silent, his only focus was on the words coming out of Rumlow's mouth. Hoping for answers that would lead him to finding Bucky. Nothing else mattered. Not even how he had been a mere six seconds away from his own demise. Only Bucky.

"I know." she rubbed her thumb around in a small circle against his skin, "I -" she started to tell him about Bucky but he cut her off,

"I'm sorry." The apology surprised her. What did he have to apologize for? He hadn't done anything wrong, "Rumlow's dead because of me." he blinked a bit and she tried to control her reaction. While she wanted to laugh, she knew it wasn't an appropriate response. He was trying to console her for a loss she didn't feel.

In the end, Rumlow meant nothing to her, despite however many times they had been physically intimate. That didn't matter to her. What mattered was the emotional intimacy she shared with someone. Like Steve. Rumlow never had that with her. He was a stress reliever for her. And also working for the evil organization that ended up ruining her life so that erased whatever sort of connection she had to him. All that was left was betrayal and bitterness.

"It's okay." she assured him, holding his gaze, "It wasn't your fault." His apology was more for his sake than for hers. She knew that and would say the right thing so that he felt absolved of his sins. "He had a bomb strapped to him, right?" he nodded, letting her continue, "He was on his way out whether you had any say in it or not." she shifted against his lap, "And besides, what girl doesn't want the ex who turned out to be a  _literal_  Nazi dead?" she tried to lighten the mood a bit, feeling victorious when a small smile broke out across his face. She matched his smile and leaned forward so that her forehead rested against his, "You did the right thing. You stopped someone bad. Remember that." his nod made their foreheads rub together for a moment. She let a moment pass and then shifted so she could kiss him softly, lovingly, forgivingly so. Hand coming up behind to support her head, he deepened the kiss and squeezed his eyes shut a bit so that he could really be in the moment.

"Love you." he murmured after pulling back just to tell her that and then moved to kiss her again. She kissed him back, never not getting enough of his kisses. There were far too many lost ones they had to make up for.

"Love you too." she responded with a soft smile. She gave him another quick kiss before wrapping her arms around his neck and shifting them so his head was resting against her chest. Though it was always nice to hear the words, he truly did believe her more so then than ever before based on her actions. She had been at the compound waiting for him to get back from Lagos - just as she had countless times before when they briefly lived at the tower. Proving that she wasn't planning on leaving again anytime soon. Proof extending into her not wanting to take the Berlin job simply because it meant leaving him.

"Hey, I…" she pulled his head away from her chest, breaking the small moment they were sharing. Shifting back on his thighs, she guided his head back so that they were looking at each other again. Hands gently gripping his hair, Q licked her lips and took in a breath, "I should tell -" she started to say before his eyes flicked over to the doorway. She hesitated, then looked over her shoulder to follow his gaze. No one was standing in the doorway causing her to look back at Steve, a bit confused.

"Do you hear that?" he asked, concern writing itself across his face. She shook her head, unsure what he was talking about. He took in a breath and then let it out as a heavy sigh, clearly putting the pieces together, "Wanda's watching the news again." he explained what he was hearing. Swallowing, Q tried to push past the ache that grew in her stomach at the mere mention of Wanda.

"How's she holding up?" she asked what was supposed to be asked. Played the part of concerned girlfriend despite not being concerned at all.

Sure, she felt bad for Wanda - it was never easy to be blamed for causing something terrible. Not to mention how she had talked to Q about wanting to save people rather than hurt them, only to end up accidentally killing a whole lot of innocent people in one fell swoop. There was a part of Q's brain that wondered if it actually  _was_ an accident. She felt shitty for even considering it, but based on her experiences with the girl, it could be a possibility. That, and it was proof that the girl wasn't ready to be on the team. She lost control and killed almost a dozen innocent Wakandan volunteers and hospital patients. Imagine if something worse had happened.

Though Q could never say anything like that to Steve, who had taken Wanda under his wing in an effort to help her become the hero he thought she could be. Something Q was a little doubtful of, still not trusting the young girl at all or making any effort to build a relationship with her abuser.

"She's struggling." he admitted in his answer to her question, "The news is not being kind. To any of us." he raised his eyebrows up, gaze on a random spot on the wall. At this point, Steve should have been used to it, but it never got easier. Most of the reporting done on the Lagos operation were discussions and debates about the legality of the Avengers, how they operated outside and above international law, and even the Wakandan king was berating the team for not caring about the collateral damage caused while taking down Rumlow and his mercenaries.

It was stupid; none of them were discussing all the good the team had done since operating outside of the government. How they had stopped terrorists, exposed nasty underbellies of organizations, and brought peace to so many places. Hurting innocent people was never their plan, which was why they always meticulously planned for as much as they could. Though some things couldn't be planned for - like what happened in Lagos. But they had tried to save as many people as they could. Tony was supposed to be on his way to help aid in damage control, tell them what to say versus what not to the press so that the news could move on to something else that didn't involve them. Not that that would ever happen.

"You want to go check on her." It wasn't a question, but Steve acted like it was. Nodding, he gave his girlfriend an apologetic smile. She tried her best to be understanding, knowing what it was like to be in the spotlight of negative news - and she hadn't even killed anyone or had any sort of enhanced powers at that time.

"I'm sorry." he apologized again, though this time his apology was warranted. There had been efforts to try and mend the relationship between Wanda and Q - or at least heal it, but Q still saw Wanda as someone who had been a big part of the torture that had happened to her. Wanda had suggested using her abilities to help heal Q's mind, but for good reasons, Q was very against it. She still didn't trust the girl - and probably wouldn't for a long time. So his apology was more because he was choosing to comfort Wanda over being with her. Q was smart enough to understand why, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt any less.

"I get it." she sighed, giving him a small smile and excusing his choice. If she wanted to be with him, which she did, this was just a reality that she had to accept. That Steve felt some sort of protectiveness over the young girl. If the situation were any different, if Wanda hadn't been the one to fuck with her head, then Q could see herself feeling the same way. But the bitterness toward her and the fear of her were woven deep into her mind. Something that would never fully go away.

Left alone in their bedroom, Q paused for a moment to readjust to her surroundings. Knowing that Steve was in the other room with Wanda, the room suddenly felt too small. She needed a more open space. More things to focus on rather than the idea of Wanda and Steve being a room alone together.

The thought or worry never crossed her mind before, but maybe it was the situation that was causing the feeling - the fact that he was going to comfort her, tell her that it was okay and not her fault. Any other time the two were together it had been in a group setting: a debrief, a recon, a team mission that had other people Q trusted like Sam and Nat to look out for Steve and make sure Wanda didn't do anything. Her fear was that Wanda would manipulate his mind without him even knowing.

But she had to remind herself that Steve was smarter than that. Stronger than that. He wouldn't let her try anything. And even Wanda had said it herself that she wanted to do and be better. Manipulating her teammates' heads wasn't the act of a hero after all. She had to trust both of them, and was only struggling to trust the one.

"Fancy meeting you here." Glancing over from the glass of wine she was pouring herself, she spotted Nat sauntering into the common area. Q gave the redhead a brief smile in silent greeting, then recorked the bottle, "Didn't realize you were already back." she added in reference to the Berlin trip Q definitely didn't tell her about.

"Yep." she lifted the glass to her lips, not really giving a lot to the conversation mostly because she wasn't sure what direction it was headed quite yet. There were too many variables, so she wanted to play it safe. A smart move in general when talking to an ex-KGB assassin turned SHIELD agent turned Avenger.

"Officially a suit again?" she continued her line of questioning without pausing in her steps toward Q. She got to the other side of the island and perched herself on the stool without hesitation.

"Uh, not yet, no." Cursing silently, she realized she should've been physically moving opposite of Nat so not to become trapped in the widow's web like she now was. On edge, she was trying to predict the next question, and the best possible answer to give so that she was freed that much faster. The air between them hadn't been cleared since her return to the compound. And the tension was forming again, creating a bubble that was threatening to pop at any moment. It didn't help how casual Nat was acting - as if they were still friends.

"I'm sure you'll get it." While her words sounded light and supportive, the smile on her face said otherwise. Tight and forced, she was holding back what she wanted to say. Most likely about how Q would be leaving again. Forcing the guilt she had carried for the past two years back onto her shoulders where it belonged.

"I'm not." she ducked her head down to avoid the intense gaze Nat was giving her. Finger trailing around the rim of the wine glass, she shook her head a bit, "And I'm not sure I'm going to take it even if I do." she admitted just as she had to Steve a bit earlier, "Leaving again just doesn't seem fair."

"No, it doesn't." Eyebrows raising in agreement, Nat watched Q distract herself with the motion and feeling of the lip of the wine glass against her finger. "Can I get one of those?" Her question was sudden enough to stop Q's distraction and look at her with an embarrassed smile.

"Right, yeah, totally." she bobbed her head in a nod, backing away from her wine glass and turning to get another one for Nat. Clearing her throat, she geared up for a subject change, "Hey, I never thanked you for the birthday gift." she navigated to hopefully a safer topic as she went through the motions of pouring Nat a glass of wine, "It's actually pretty badass." she smiled to herself at the memory of trying it on and then understanding why Nat always walked like she did while wearing her Black Widow suit. The suit instilled some sense of confidence in her, made her feel like she could take on the world. And it didn't hurt that she looked ungodly sexy in it - something Steve made sure to tell her and prove to her when she modeled it for him.

"Figured you needed an upgrade from...that." Nat gestured to the pantsuit Q was still in which made her glance over herself.

"Alright, don't hate on the pantsuit." she held her hand up in defense, becoming protective of her outfit and love of pantsuits, "They're practical and professional."

"They limit movement and are uncomfortable." she argued with a smirk. Rolling her eyes, Q brought her wine glass up to her lips again as she thought of a retort.

"They have pockets." she raised her eyebrows up challengingly.

" _Fake_  pockets." Nat pointed out, which made Q scrunch up her features in annoyance. The debate could go on, both of them knew this. Both of them were skilled arguers, especially with Q's head was offering up plenty of responses that would add to her argument. But this wasn't about pantsuits, really, it was just a conversation to get the other conversations going. One to dispel the original tension that clouded over them.

"Well, I like them." she made a face before taking a sip of her wine.

"I know you do, Suit." Nat used the nickname Q pretended to hate, signaling that they were okay. Or at least on the right path, on the road to being okay again. She gave her friend a small smile, glancing into her wine glass as Nat studied her. "I'm glad you're back, Suit." she admitted out of the blue, exposing a small vulnerable spot to Q and hoping she wouldn't use it to her advantage. "Steve needed you much more than he cared to admit." she added with a small smile. While she was protective of Steve's feelings and wary of Q's intentions, time had proven that Q was trying her best to mend their relationship. She could loosen the noose a bit, but would still be prepared just in case she left the way she did again.

"I think the same argument could be made for Dawson with you, Nat." Q pointed out, and Natasha wondered if she knew the way it made her feel. Loved and weirdly validated, "And I'm sorry about...how everything happened." she finally apologized to her friend, both of them realizing she hadn't done it yet, "We weren't thinking." she included Dawson into the apology even if he had already apologized to Natasha. "Kind of ironic considering me." she gave Nat a wry smile, both of them well aware of how anal Q got when it came to planning. Natasha remembered the large packets she was given during Project Van Winkle when she had been brought on by Fury.

"Situations sometimes change thought processes." she wisely said, alluding to the fact that she knew what Q and Dawson had been doing. How they had been tracking down Q's long lost family member and what had happened because of it. Q raised her eyebrows in agreement, but didn't respond verbally. Natasha took in a deep breath and gave her a placating smile, "I get it. Just next time, for future reference, don't go into a Hydra base alone." Q let out a small, amused scoff.

"Duly noted." she lifted her wine glass at Nat, "I'll be sure to include you next time, Nat."

"Oh, you better, Suit." she teased lightly, though there was a serious undertone to it. She lifted her wine glass and clinked it against Q's. Exchanging matching smiles, the two women sipped their wine as the wall of tension between them shrank a bit.

Both knew that Q hadn't been totally forgiven quite yet. The resentment Natasha held toward Q for leaving Steve, one of her closest friends, the way she did was lingering. Though it wasn't as intense as it first was - mostly because once she found out why Q had left, she understood the reasoning behind Q's disappearance. That, plus what Q had gone through was punishment enough. She wasn't going to continue to lay it on her because that would be just added pain that Q didn't need. But she was going to keep Q at arm's length for a bit longer. Just to protect herself.

Q's phone chiming with an email notification was enough to break the post-apology moment the two women were sharing. Natasha slipped off the stool as Q set down her wine glass and exchanged it for her phone. While she opened up her email, Steve and the Vision came into the common area.

"Tony just got here." Steve didn't mean for it to sound like an announcement, but he just wanted to warn everyone before they found out for themselves. Q wasn't paying attention to any of them, instead looking at the email in her inbox from the agent who had been handling her application process to the CIA. She clicked on it as Steve continued, "And he brought Secretary Ross." Natasha raised her eyebrows at the mention of Thaddeus Ross, a flicker of an emotion Steve couldn't figure out quick enough flashing across her face before her expression became neutral again.

The email expanded and filled her phone screen:

_Ms. Proctor,_

_Based on your past experiences, skills and the conversations you had with fellow agents, we'd like to offer you the position of ANALYST - TARGETING DIVISION - BERLIN TASKFORCE._

* * *

A/N: She got the job! She got the job! Although at SUCH an inopportune time lol oh well. I hope you liked this chapter! We are officially into Civil War haha oh wow I can't believe it either. Let me know all your thoughts/predictions/reactions.

And I wish you all a very happy new year! Here's to 2020 being the year I finish this story!


	88. going around in circles

"They're still in there?" The question was rhetorical; Dawson had walked by the conference room where Steve, Natasha, Sam and the rest of the Avengers team had been meeting with Secretary Ross. That, and the walls were all made of glass. Easy to see in, easy to see out. Still, Q nodded and continued to flip through the magazine she had been distracting herself with for the last hour. The government official and his lackeys, along with Tony Stark, had ushered the team into the conference room with formal and terse greetings.

"Know what they're talking about?" Unlike the first question, the follow-up required an answer. Discarding the magazine, she shifted her attention to where Dawson was dumping coffee grounds into the garbage disposal.

"The Accords." she replied as he went about making a new pot of coffee in the French Press. Both of them knew what the Accords were about, hell it was the reason they had come back in the first place. She just wasn't expecting Ross to be the one who delivered the documents.

"About time." he sighed, sounding almost relieved. It had been over a month since they arrived at the compound. Both of them were starting to wonder if the Accords were actually going to be a thing, or another false threat from the government. "What happened in Lagos finally pushed the other countries to sign, huh?"

"Apparently." Raising her eyebrows up, her head turned in the direction of the conference room Steve and the others were in. Neither Q or Dawson had been invited to the meeting - not surprising either of them considering they weren't Avengers. Though the Accords would still concern Q, if anyone were to find out about her time in the Hydra facility.

"Good." he made a face and picked up his coffee mug, "This is good." A puzzled expression appeared on her face as he settled onto the couch next to her.

"You think the Accords are a good thing?" she voiced her confusion, which made him pause mid-sip.

"I guess...Maybe." he answered vaguely, gaze shifting over to her, "You don't?" His question made her pause for a moment, considering it for a second.

"I...don't know." she settled on while her eyes flicked over his shoulder to the direction of the conference room, "Steve definitely won't." she knew that much to be true. Thoughts of Hydra infiltrating SHIELD without anyone noticing and using the division to their advantage flitted through her head. Steve, and she, had no idea until it was too late. She wondered how many ops were Hydra controlled, how many innocent lives had been lost, and how many times had she helped further Hydra's plan because of her blind devotion to SHIELD. The agency may not have always followed the moral high ground, but Steve did.

"Nat might." he pulled down the corners of his mouth as he considered what side his quasi-girlfriend would choose. Not that she was one for following along with government orders, but she was one for self-preservation. The Accords would be the closest thing to it at this point.

Before either one of them could say anything else on the matter, Q spotted Secretary Ross walking away from the conference room with his personnel, "I don't like Ross."

"Who does?" he scoffed, both of them were well aware of the shit Ross had done prior to meeting with the Avengers. Like the project he led that illegally experimented on prisoners or how he lied to Dr. Banner which led to him becoming the Hulk. He was just like every politician in Washington: dirty and self-serving. "Looks like the meeting's over though." he took in a breath, like he was preparing himself for what was about to happen.

A few moments passed before the rest of the Avengers filed out either one after the other or paired off. Sam was talking quietly with Steve, gesturing a bit to get his point across and Steve nodded to show he agreed. The group was headed straight for the common area where Dawson and Q had been sitting for the last hour. With all the different types of personalities in the room, the subject of the Accords would turn into a debate.

At the mere thought of what was coming, her fingers drifted to the wristbands that would send out a little vibration so she could have something to focus on before anything else started. Like trying to figure out who would be on the side of the Accords versus who wouldn't be, the arguments that would come from it, and the possible solutions. There were too many outliers. Too many of them colliding together. She needed to be there, but she couldn't be there.

As the group got closer to the common area, she reached into her pocket for her noise-cancelling earbuds. Slipping them into her ears, she let her hair cover up her ears so that it wouldn't be noticeable to anyone sitting around her and started her pink noise playlist. She greeted Steve with a small, timid smile and he immediately handed her the large, almost textbook-like document. Though he didn't say anything, his face said it all - looking grim and serious. The rest of the Avengers took open seats around the room - Wanda the furthest away from Q, while Sam and Rhodey chose to stand on either side of where Steve was sitting in the chair next to the couch Q and Dawson were sitting on.

Her gaze turned to the cover of the document where:  _THE SOKOVIA ACCORDS_  was stamped across the center. Heavy in her hands, the sheer thickness of it alone reminded her of the packets she used to make for her Friday Fury meetings. Though as she flipped through it, she realized most of it was just flowery, political language that didn't mean anything. What mattered was the important parts like how the Avengers were no longer to be a private organization. Instead they would operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel only when and if that panel deemed it necessary. Collar and leash.

A quick glance around the room proved that not everyone was on the same page. Even without hearing the conversation happening, she could tell from body language. Clearly, there was some division on the decision to sign versus not to sign. Battle lines were being drawn, sides being taken. One side: that the Avengers should sign the Accords. Made up of Tony, Vision, Rhodey. The other side: that the Avengers shouldn't sign the Accords. Made up of Steve and Sam. Wanda and Natasha were still in the middle. As were she and Dawson.

It was complicated. Q could see both sides of the argument, being someone who would be both indirectly and directly affected by the Accords. She would have to sign the set of documents eventually, if anyone found out about the super soldier serum that was in her system. Part of her believed she would sign them; she needed supervision just as much as her Captain America boyfriend. Be held accountable for whatever she did, whenever she exercised her enhanced abilities and what came after it. But also she knew from the beginning that Steve would be against the Accords. It would put limitations on the Avengers, and other enhanced beings. Make them be at the service of a panel of government officials who might not always know what was best. Which could end badly.

Paying no mind to the argument that was happening around her, she pulled out the note that was in the cover of the document to read to herself. The United Nations was set to meet and ratify the Accords three days from then, and all the Avengers were expected to sign the documents.

Suddenly, Dawson's hand moved in front of her eye-line, fingers snapping together though there was no sound. It did what he intended for it to do: get her attention. When she lifted her head, she saw that those around her were looking at her expectantly. The pit in her stomach formed just as it did when she was in school and wasn't paying attention in class, only to have the teacher ask her a question. She would've known the answer, had she been paying attention.

"Sorry," she pulled her earbuds out, wincing a bit as the general sounds of the room drifted in, taking over the soft pink noise sounds she had been playing, "What was the question?" Blinking, she let herself quickly become accustomed to the room again, her fingers moving to the bracelet on her wrist.

"Thoughts on that reading material you've got there." Nat's eyes pointedly followed her words to look at the Accords document that was resting in Q's lap. She was laying on the other couch, on her stomach while Dawson stood behind the couch Q was sitting on, weight resting on his elbows.

"Oh, uhm," she hesitated for a second, gathering her thoughts, "I don't think it concerns me." she carefully said, hand running over the smooth cover of the document, "Considering I'm not an Avenger." Her lie of an explanation got a scoff from Tony,

"You're Avenger-adjacent, Office Max." he gestured to her with a free hand, the other holding a mug of coffee, "Biblically so." his eyebrows rose in a knowing manner and out of the corner of her eye, she caught Steve making an exasperated face at the other man. Dawson's face scrunched up in a grimace, never one who liked being reminded of what went on behind closed doors.

"This would be the precedent set for all enhanced beings," Steve shifted in his chair, a look of concern crossing his face as the meaning of what he said came through. He was talking about Q without mentioning her by name. Only a few people in the room knew about what really happened in the Hydra base. What she had been turned into, "We sign this, and then every enhanced has to as well. Abide to the rules, and if they don't..."

"You're saying they'll come for me." Wanda finished for him, accent thick with dread. Before anyone could bother to placate her, Dawson mumbled out:

"Maybe they should." which got looks from everyone in the room. Some concerned, others confused, whereas Q was the only one in silent agreement, but didn't dare make it apparent, "If you don't sign them, I mean." he backed up his comment, "Full offense, Wanda, you've done some straight up terrible, horrific things." he motioned to team they were surrounded by as a clear example. But the girl's eyes also darted over to where Q sat before quickly looking away, "And I get you're trying to  _make amends_  or whatever, but this document prevents others like you from causing destruction and chaos and hurting innocent people. Signing the accounts makes it so you're held accountable. Makes it so innocent people don't get caught in the crossfire anymore." he released a bit of anger held toward Wanda that he had been pushing down since arriving at the compound. It sucked seeing how easily the team forgave someone who not only fucked with  _their_  heads, but also really hurt his best friend. The younger girl let her head drop a bit in shame, fingers tangling together a bit in nervousness.

"Damn, Van Der Beek, laying it on thick, huh?" Tony asked as he walked over from the kitchen area to rejoin the group. He cast an annoyed glance at the man, pushing up from where he had been leaning with his elbows against the back of the couch.

"Man, I'm agreeing with you." Something that Q never would've thought she'd hear come out of Dawson's mouth, "Can't you just take the win and run?" Dawson had always, dramatically, thought of Tony as an enemy of sorts. Someone who thought he was better than him only because he had a name to support him. The two being on the same side of an argument had to be the sign of end times.

"Oh, no I am, believe me." Tony spread his fingers out and pointed to himself before pointing back at Dawson, "Very lucky to have you on the team." the sarcasm in his voice was evident, but didn't negate the fact that Dawson had joined the "for" side in the debate. The surprise of Dawson agreeing with  _Tony Stark_ aside, Q couldn't believe it. Both of them had been more in the middle of the debate when first talking about the Accords, but clearly something had changed in the last few minutes.

"You, of all people, Mister  _Fuck the Government_ , really think that they should sign this?" she held up the set of documents, "Be under the foot of some sort of panel that tells them who's worth being saved and who's not? Even after SHIELD and Hydra?" she raised her eyebrows in disbelief. This was the man who created an entire program that gave him access to every single database around the world. The man who, pre-SHIELD, made his living off exposing the seedy underbellies of corrupt companies and agencies. Siding for agreement with the Accords - something that would go against everything he had fought for, wasn't like him.

Not responding for a moment, he settled back down on his elbows so that he was resting against the top of the couch again.

"And you're not?" he rose his eyebrows in a way that made it known what angle he was going to take in the argument. Pointing out her thoughts and feelings toward there being some sort of supervision toward the Avengers and other enhanced beings when it came to saving the world. The collateral damage was always too much, too many innocent lives were lost, and it needed to be righted in some way.

Both of them were on the opposite side of where they should've been in the argument. If her assumptions were correct - which they almost always were those days thanks to her newfound abilities, both she and Dawson were choosing the same side that their partner would choose. Devotion and loyalty to Steve and Natasha. For once, Q wasn't being selfish. And for once, Dawson wasn't choosing Q over Natasha. Proving to their significant others where their loyalties lied - despite their personal preferences.

"Q's right." Steve agreed with her, stopping the argument between Dawson and Q before it furthered, "If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. What if this panel sends us somewhere we don't think we should go? What if there is somewhere we need to go and they don't let us?" he made valid points for his side of the argument. "The safest hands are still our own." he summed up, shifting his body in his chair a bit to take on a more Captain-like posture.

"But if we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off…" The hypothetical Nat posed lingered in the air for a moment.

Though Q hadn't heard her choose the side for the Accords, it almost made sense that she did. Even despite being the same woman who told Congress to kiss her ass a few years before, Natasha was self-aware enough to know that they were treading dangerous waters. It was safer for all of them to play the game for a bit, long enough to gain the general population's trust back.

"This isn't something we can go back on, Nat." Steve shook his head a bit, knowing her thought process, "We sign this, we're done for. We can't undo it." he stressed his point a bit, desperately wanting everyone to see the negative side to the Accords. It may have been created by the United Nations, an organization that was responsible for maintaining international peace and security among other things, but it was still run by people with agendas. And agendas changed. People changed. The government didn't always follow the moral high ground. That much he knew for certain - dating way back to the forties when he was selling war bonds.

"I think you're missing the point, man." Dawson spoke up, hands opening a bit, "The Accords will show that you guys truly do want to help. That you're not just some assholes running around in skin-tight suits."

"They shouldn't have to sign something to prove that when they've been proving it every time they save the world." Q glanced over at Dawson's profile, "In time, the Accords will prevent that from happening. They'll just be some sort of...trophy squad or whatever." Again, both of them were arguing the side they didn't really agree with. Like some sort of high school mock debate. Dawson didn't  _really_ think the Accords were going to prove anything, while Q didn't  _really_ think that the Accords were going to prevent anything.

"Alright, we're going around in circles." Tony clapped his hands together. The sudden sound made Q flinch and then wince in a bit of pain, "Let's sum it up: the Accords are a good thing, something we  _need_  in order to keep the band together." he kept talking, motioning with his hand as he did, but Q didn't pay any attention to him. Instead, she shifted her gaze over to Steve who was looking at his phone. His brow furrowed for a split second, creasing his face with a sadness of some sort, before he abruptly got up from his chair.

"I have to go." he unceremoniously excused himself from the team meeting. The rest of the group was left to watch him walk away without an explanation.

"Steve," Q pushed the Accords off her lap and got to her feet. She followed after her boyfriend without pause, worried about him. Whatever he reacted to on his phone had nothing to do with the Accords. No, this was much more personal.

She found him in the stairwell, leaning against the railing of one of the landings, head in his hands. In the in between of the top floor and the bottom floor, the future and the past - the present being the landing. His shoulders were slumped just like they had been when he carried the grief and guilt of what happened to Bucky.

"Hey, hi," she moved to comfort him, not knowing what the cause was behind the slump of his shoulders but recognizing the posture. Sliding one hand up his arm, she gently tugged his hand away from his face. The one that had been covering his tears in case anyone discovered him. Protecting himself, "You're okay, baby." she reassured him, immediately pulling him into her arms, "It's okay." his arms snaked around her waist. Tightening around like he was either trying to anchor himself to her or to prevent her from drifting away. With his face buried into the crook of her neck, she could feel the wetness of his tears against her skin. Steve rarely, if ever, cried. Something about being raised in the forties and then also being held to the standards that were placed on him as Captain America. There had been no time for tears, no time for mourning, no place for emotions.

"What happened?" she asked, pulling away enough so he could lift his head and look at her. Moving her hands so that they were cupping his face, she used her thumbs to gently wipe away the tears on his cheeks.

"Peggy, uh..." he trailed off, blinking a bit as he tried to find the strength to say what had happened. He might have had the brawn that rivaled some gods, but no amount of physical muscles would be helpful in this situation. How could he possibly have the strength to say what he knew out loud? And if did, that would mean it was true. He didn't want it to be true.

"Oh, Steve," Q was smart enough to understand what he couldn't say, "I'm so sorry." she sympathized with him. Her gut twisted in sadness, if only for Steve. Even though she had only met Peggy a few times, she knew how important she was to Steve. How, for a long time, she was his only connection back to the world he knew. The past life he lived.

Soothing him, she pulled him back into her arms. Let him find the familiar spot in between her shoulder and neck. Hide himself from the reality he was currently in. Mourn his lost love with someone who loved him.

At the moment, it was the safest spot in the world.

* * *

_A/N: Battle lines have been drawn! Friends facing off against friends! Choosing sides despite personal preferences! The complicatedness continues. Hopefully you liked this chapter - I always feel a bit weird writing scenes that are already in the movies bc I don't want them to be boring/repetitive and for Q and Dawson to just be there ya know? Hopefully they contributed something! LMK all of your thoughts and what not._


	89. permanently lost

The stages of grief, Steve had discovered, were bullshit. There was no right or wrong way to process the grief that came along with losing someone - hell there was no right or wrong way to process losing  _Peggy_. He hadn't been angry like he had when he lost Q. Or guilty like when he lost Bucky.

Surprise, shock, was the first thing that came after the sudden sadness. Peggy's death surprised him. Even though he knew it was a natural part of life, he had been having trouble wrapping his head around the fact that she was gone. Really gone. Never to return again unless in his dreams.

Death happened to everyone eventually. Hell, even he had died before. So had Bucky. Peggy, though, had always been a sort of immortal being. She had been with him in the beginning, way back before he had gone plummeting into the Arctic. There when he died the first time, then somehow still there when he rose again. She had always been there. Until she wasn't.

Throughout his time as Captain America, and even before that, Steve had lost many people to death. First his father, then his mother, then soldiers and friends. All loss was different, in the worst way possible. Losing Peggy was nothing like losing his father; there was a sense of freedom that came from that. Losing Peggy was nothing like losing his father; there was an ache in his heart that never truly went away, burning whenever he wanted to talk to her about something or saw something that reminded him of her. Losing Peggy wasn't like losing a soldier; that was a casualty of war that had a specific way of grieving in place.

He had lost Peggy once before, when he went into the ice. Had thought he lost her again when he woke up to find that she had moved on without him. Then truly, permanently lost her in a way that no one but Bucky had returned from. And he highly doubted the same thing that happened to Bucky would happen to Peggy. The loss was insurmountable, piling onto the previous feelings of loss and crushing him slowly.

The three days following the news of Peggy's death had been a whirlwind of chaos, but he felt like he had stayed still. Like he was standing in the eye of a hurricane. Q, thankfully, handled all the arrangements for the funeral. He, Sam and she would be going to London for the funeral instead of Vienna for the signing of the Accords.

The Accords were the least important thing to him. He had made up his mind. Only wishing he had gotten a few more days to help everyone else see the negatives of the documents. As much as Ross preached that the United Nations wouldn't be controlling the team, just advising them, Steve was unconvinced. He hated working for SHIELD because he felt as long he was compromising all the time for the 'greater good' which in reality was the greater good for SHIELD. The only reason he stayed was because of Peggy, and since she was no longer living or had any impact on the United Nations, he didn't feel beholden to be another government's lap dog. He had to do what was right, even if everyone was telling him it was wrong. Stand up for the little guy, against the bully. Something that was instilled in him at a very young age, and a trait that wouldn't ever go away. So he wouldn't sign them.

The funeral would overlap with the signing of the Accords just enough where if he wanted to, he could use it as an excuse. Not that he ever planned on going in the first place, but that was beside the point. He was going to take the time to say goodbye to his friend, his first love, one of the few women who changed his life.

The last time Steve had been in London was with Peggy and the rest of the SSR during the war. Most of the time he had spent either underground, planning the next Hydra raid with the Howling Commandos, or getting a drink at one of the pubs with Bucky and their fellow brothers in arms. There had been no real exploring, though Peggy had offered a couple of times to show him around whenever they had a free moment. An offer that was meant for tomorrow, even though tomorrow only came seventy odd years too late.

The city was still as grey and gloomy as it had been back then, but this time it felt sadder. A different sadness than the one that lingered throughout his time there during the war. Like it knew about the loss that Steve was dealing with and offered up its sympathy in the form of cloudy skies. He, Q and Sam had arrived in London a couple of days before the funeral just to get settled and sort out any last minute details. Understanding what he was going through and knowing what needed to be done, Q took it upon herself to plan, schedule and book the entire trip to London. He couldn't have been more grateful to have her by his side again - especially during a time like the present.

"So the service starts at ten, but we need to be there like a half an hour early because you're a pallbearer," he was reminded of the role he had been asked to perform from Peggy's remaining family. One last expression of respect. Not only for Peggy, but for those she left behind. Q didn't pause as she continued to go through the schedule for the next day, "and then after we're done at the graveyard, there's the wake at some London pub Peggy and her brother used to go to before he shipped out." she waved her hand in the air as if she didn't remember the name of the pub, even though both of them knew she did.

"Okay," Was all he could think to respond with. Just agreeing without any sort of inflection to his voice. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to say - it all was plainly laid out for him. His answer made her shift in the bed, turning onto her side so she could fully face him.

"Sorry," she grimaced at herself, "I'm being anal. This isn't helping you, is it?" he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her a bit closer to him.

"No, it's not." he agreed with a sad smile, "But it's not because it's a lot to remember or complicated or anything like that, it's just…"

"Hard." she finished for him with an understanding smile, "I get it. Went through the same thing when my grandmother died." One of the first times in a long time she had mentioned her grandmother since Thanksgiving a few years prior. A sympathetic smile came over his face but before he could offer anything else, she had moved on to a solution for him, "You need to get out of your head for a couple of hours." she told him matter of factly as she moved to straddle his lap. He raised his eyebrows up at the position she was in - not complaining about what might happen, but also thinking it was a bit...unorthodox to do such a thing the night before a funeral.

"Sam may have gotten his own room, Queenie, but the walls are thin. And he's right next door." he reminded her with a pointed look. She rolled her eyes, placing her hands on his chest and leaning forward,

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Steven." she chastised him lightly before delivering a quick kiss, "I was thinking of doing something with our clothes  _on_." she moved off of his lap and off of the bed. Clearly using him as a barrier she needed to climb over to get off the bed instead of just getting off from the other side.

"C'mon," she offered her hand to him. Her fingers waggled a bit to tempt him, which worked; he easily closed the space between them with a reach of his hand. His fingers closing the spaces between hers and connecting them together.

Still holding her hand as they walked out of the hotel, he enjoyed the soft sounds of an evening in London. They had gotten dinner with Sam earlier, avoiding topics like the Accords, the funeral, and anything that reminded any of them about what happened in both Sokovia and outside of it. Needless to say, it was a quiet dinner. And not in the comfortable way like it was when it was just him and Q.

Glancing over, he caught sight of her profile. The glow of the streetlights highlighting her bone structure in a way that made her look warm and beautiful. The space between her brows was pinched a bit in concentration. Solely focused on where they were going, and trying not to get distracted by other things happening around them. A slight squeeze of her hand was enough to get her to look at him, the smile spreading a bit more at the sight of him.

She leaned into him a bit, readjusting the way they were attached so that her arm was looping through his. Like how he used to watch Bucky walk with the ladies to the clubs. A reminder that she was by his side, she would always be by his side. Something he appreciated and was finally beginning to trust in again.

"You were in London during the war, right?" Even though she knew the answer to the question, he still answered it as if she didn't,

"For a bit with the SSR and the Commandos." The real prompt came after his answer, the first question just being a lead in,

"Tell me about it." He knew he had told her stories about London before, even without giving a specific location. Though it was different this time, he realized, because this time it was him telling  _Q_. Not him telling Agent Proctor of SHIELD.

Throughout the years, there had been plenty of moments like that during the course and growth of their relationship. Whenever he could pinpoint a specific moment when it happened, the warmth in his sternum grew. His love for her grew; she wanted to hear his stories again and again. She wanted him to know there was a difference. She wanted him. She loved him.

So just like he had done countless times before, he told her the stories he had told her before. Telling them felt different, less like he was reciting stories and more like he was bringing her into the moment. Her reactions were more genuine and often at different points in the stories than they had been before. There were no pens or pads of paper or graphs or charts, just the two of them walking through London and reminiscing of days past.

"Thank you for coming with me," he murmured softly into her hair. They were standing on the platform in one of the passenger capsules of the London Eye. It was where Q had been intending to take them in an effort to get Steve out of his head. And he had to admit it worked.

The wheel slowly rotated up and around, giving them a perfect view of the city at night. The two of them were the only ones in the capsule, allowing for there to be a private moment for them to share. Something that hadn't happened often. With him standing with her in front of him - his arms wrapped around her midsection as she rested against him.

"Wouldn't be anywhere else." she responded without pause. Before, he would've struggled to believe her, but at that moment, and after the last few days, there was no doubt in his mind that she meant it. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head then, when she leaned her head back to look at him, gave her a loving kiss against her lips.

The next day came all too quick, yet way too slow. Steve would've liked to say that getting out of the hotel with Q and having a mini, semi-spontaneous adventure was enough to distract him, but he spent the majority of the night lying awake in bed. Staring at the ceiling as if his memories of a past life with Peggy were playing above him. Like a home movie. A highlight reel of all the times their lives intertwined. All the times he looked at her to see her looking back. All the times she smiled at him or laughed at a joke he said. All the times she advised him, sassed him, or encouraged him. That's all those moments were now: fond memories to look back on when he was missing her. Just like the rest - his mother, brothers, Bucky…

Turning his head, he looked to where Q lightly slept beside him. He hated to think about it, but he wondered when their moments would become nothing more but fond memories. She had been so young when they first met, not even close to thirty then, but while the years passed, she aged like any normal person, he barely changed. He was aging, he knew that much. The serum wasn't some sort of vampire-esque drug. But everything was slowed. Which meant there probably would be a day when…

"No." she cut off his morbid thoughts rather abruptly, "No!" she twisted in the sheets and he went to reach for her to wake her out of her nightmare only to stop when he heard her mumble, "Dawson, you idiot...it's organized by year…" he tried not to smile at the plainness of her dream, grateful for it. Shifting closer, he maneuvered Q onto his chest as gently as he could, but still she woke just long enough to realize what was happening and mutter, "I love you," before letting sleep take over again. He smiled to himself, deciding not to focus on the tragedy that might one day come in losing her too, but instead of the hopeful future the two could have together. He let those dreams project themselves onto the ceiling above the bed until morning came.

Dressed in similar tones of black, he, Q and Sam all arrived to the beautiful cathedral a little early. Q adjusted his tie a bit just to have something to do with her hands before smoothing out the long, flowy skirt of her dress. The sleeves of it were just as long and billowy and her hair was pulled back from her face with her butterfly hairpin that sparkled against the sunlight that was beginning to stream through the clouds. They all waited outside until it was time for him to join the rest of the pallbearers. He gave her a quick kiss goodbye and then firmly shook Sam's hand before letting them go into the church - knowing he would soon follow.

The church was packed with both Peggy's loved ones and ones who wanted to pay their respects. She had touched the lives of many, either directly or indirectly, she had made a difference. Left her mark on the world, left it a little better than she found it and Steve could only hope he could do the same. Be remembered for something similar. He had been once before after all.

After carrying Peggy's casket down to the front of the church, Steve took his seat next to Q in one of the first pews. She gave him a sympathetic smile, reaching out to wipe away a tear from his cheek that he hadn't even realized escaped. Then her hand immediately moved to intertwine with his. Reminding him that she was there and he could hold onto her for as long as he needed. She would keep him afloat. Rescue him if he were drowning. He sure felt like he was. This was the hardest part. This made it real and certain.

Though the feeling was replaced by a slight surprise when he saw Sharon step up to the podium to say a few words. She had been introduced as Peggy's grand-niece, a connection Steve hadn't even realized until right then and there. There was no feeling of betrayal that came with the surprise, mostly because she had never told him she  _wasn't_ Peggy's grand-niece. And all in all, it made sense.

The clues were all there for him, some more obvious than others: mentions of her aunt, staying in D.C. despite SHIELD collapsing, and the more he reflected on the connection, the more he realized their personalities were similar. Strong and confident, leaders in their roles and never ones to let him get away with anything.

"She had a photograph in her office. Aunt Peggy standing next to JFK. As a kid, that was pretty cool." Sharon smiled fondly at the memory she and Peggy shared, "But it was a lot to live up to. Which was why only a few people knew we were related." her eyes met Steve's, as if apologizing for something she needn't apologize for. He took in a breath and gave her a slight nod of understanding and forgiveness, then glanced over to Q who had an apologetic smile on her face - even though she was in the same boat. The Kate lie was much bigger than a last name. And it was so long ago, it didn't even matter anymore. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and then let her lay her head against his shoulder for the rest of Sharon's speech in honor of her late aunt.

"I asked her once how she managed to master diplomacy and espionage in a time when no one wanted to see a woman succeed at either. She said, compromise where you can. But where you can't, don't. Even if everyone is telling you that something wrong is something right. Even if the whole world is telling you to move... it is your duty to plant yourself like a tree...look them in the eye and say:  _No, you move._ " The words rang deep and true in Steve. Especially in the current situation he was being pulled between: deciding whether or not to sign the Accords. But Sharon's story was almost like a reminder from Peggy from beyond the grave, telling him that he should stand his ground. That he was doing the right thing, despite everyone saying different. Somehow, she still always having some sort of sage advice for him, even after all this time.

After the service, while the rest of the funeral attendees went to the graveyard behind the church, Steve stayed inside to have a moment to himself. To reflect on what had happened and what was going to happen. Come to accept that even if Peggy was gone, she still lived on through her family, through memories and shared stories.

The heavy door of the church creaked as someone entered the otherwise empty building. Half expecting it to be Q, he was pleasantly surprised to see Natasha walking down the aisle to meet him. He didn't even know she had come; he hadn't seen her during the service. She took her place across from him, dressed in a long black trench coat that had pockets she could slip her hands into and adapt a casual stance that matched his. One that tried and failed to hide the concern behind her eyes.

"When I came out of the ice, I thought everyone I had known was gone." he started in place of a greeting. There was no need for pleasantries with them, they knew each other well enough nowadays, "Then I found out she was alive…" he trailed off and looked to the framed photograph that was placed at the altar. Her SSR headshot. Frozen in time, just like he had been at one point, "I was just lucky to have her." he remembered the day Fury called him. Hell, finding out Peggy was alive was the catalyst to him meeting Q. She was the reason he had found a reason to live again, to love again. He owed her twice over.

"She had you back, too." Nat reminded him, causing him to think of how special it must've been for Peggy to have him back again after losing him for so long. He ducked his head down and let his jaw clench just enough to stop the tears from escaping, "We have what we have when we have it." she nodded as Steve began to unravel the phrase. The meaning was deeper than she let on and while he was appreciative of her coming to pay her respects, he knew there was an underlying reason she was there,

"Who else signed?" he got back to business, understanding her true motives of being at the service. She was smart enough to understand what he was referencing to.

"Tony, Rhodey, Vision." she answered clinically, leaning back against the pews. Those he assumed would sign.

"Clint?" Even if Clint had gone on paternity leave, the Avenger was still required to sign the Accords just in case he ever decided to come back.

"Says he's retired." Her answer confirmed that Clint had decided to stay on his farmhouse with his family and simple life. Something to be desired by Steve.

"Wanda?"

"TBD." Nat sighed with a toss of her curls over her shoulder, "Dawson and I are off to Vienna for the signing of the Accords. There's plenty of room on the jet." she raised her eyebrows hopefully, ignoring Steve's little grin at how she dropped Dawson's name. Hearing that Dawson agreed with the Accords threw him for a loop - he just couldn't picture him being for complete government control. But maybe there was a different reason he had missed, "Just because it's the path of least resistance doesn't mean it's the wrong path." she pointed out in a last ditch attempt to get him to change his mind, "Staying together is more important than how we stay together." he lifted his head to make eye contact with her,

"What are we giving up to do it?" The question was rhetorical. It was plainly laid out as to what they were giving up. Too much. She gave him a sad smile, understanding that he had made his choice, "I'm sorry, Nat. I can't sign it." he shook his head, arms crossing over his chest. He knew what it meant, what would come from the decision to not sign.

"I know." she nodded, accepting his decision easily. Making him believe that she might've just come to the funeral just to be there for him. As a friend. Something he was grateful for her doing. Stepping forward to close the space between them, she gestured to him, "Come here." she opened her arms up for a hug, pulling him close and letting him relax in her arms. She wasn't an enemy. She was a friend.

A little while later, after Natasha left for Vienna and he had rejoined Q and Sam in the graveyard, he found himself at the local pub celebrating Peggy's life. After talking with people from all different walks of life and hearing their stories about Peggy, the immense feeling of loss began to gently fade away. At least for a little bit. His conversation with Natasha reminded him of the decisions he had made before the funeral and the consequences that he now had to deal with.

Sam's glass clinked against Steve's, the men making eye contact as Sam cheered, "Here's to an honorable discharge." Then both of them took healthy sips of their bourbon. It wasn't Steve's first choice, but he figured he owed Sam a drink after everything.

"You sure you're okay with this?" Steve followed up with a question he should've asked earlier. Sam had also agreed to not sign the Accords - feeling the same way Steve felt about it. That, and he was unsure how long it was going to be before the United Nations lojacked them like a bunch of common criminals.

"Ah, I'm not worried about me. I make a great civilian." He was right; he had more time actively living in the modern world as a veteran than Steve did. Steve barely had two years under his belt what with SHIELD, then the Avengers and everything in between. But now he had the chance to be one, if he wanted to. Something Sam pointed out with words and then a gesture of his glass toward where Q and Sharon were talking across the pub.

Almost like she knew she was being mentioned, Q glanced over to where he and Sam were standing. The two made eye contact and she gave Steve a soft smile, then turned back to her conversation with Sharon.

Excusing himself from his conversation with Sam, Steve finished off the rest of his bourbon then went to the bar to get himself and Q a drink. The two women were still talking when he stepped up to them, only to pause so they could greet Steve. Q leaned over to give him a quick hello kiss, then eagerly accepted one of the half pints of beer from him. She moved so she could still see both Steve and Sharon, ending up next to the other woman and Steve standing across from both of them.

"So I have a question," Steve set it up while Q took a healthy sip of her beer, "when you were spying on me from across the hall -"

"You mean when I was doing my  _job_?" Sharon cut in to defend herself while Q groaned in annoyance at the conversation topic. He smirked, but didn't acknowledge the correction otherwise,

"Did Peggy know?" he asked seriously. Sharon took a breath and then shook her head,

"She kept so many secrets. I didn't want her to have one from you." she made a face as if dismayed by the thought of having to be the one to tell Peggy to keep a secret from him. He gave her a grateful smile, happy to know that.

"CIA have you stationed over here now?" he changed the subject, having last remembered her getting a position with the CIA after SHIELD fell, but hadn't heard anything since. And he hadn't run into her in DC the last few times he had been there so he figured she went international.

"Berlin." she corrected him with a nod. Then a knowing smile came over her face as she looked to Q, "Working for the joint terrorism taskforce." she explained before throwing her arm over Q's shoulder as if she were a teammate, "And I'm  _very_  excited to have this one join the team." she grinned excitedly, not noticing Q's grimace at the unexpected touch. Steve almost missed it as well, the revelation that Q had gotten the job throwing him off more than he expected it to.

"Wait, you got the job?" he motioned to his girlfriend with his beer. She nodded a bit, lips rolling in as a nervous look came over her face.

"You didn't tell him yet?" Sharon looked in between the two, arm sliding off from around Q's shoulders.

"No, I mean, yes, I mean -" Q took in a breath, putting her hand out a bit to motion to who she was talking to so there wouldn't be any confusion. Her hand motioned to Steve, "Yes, I got the job," a quick flick to Sharon, "No, I didn't tell him yet." Then she paused and glanced back to Steve, "But I guess this is me telling you now." she bit down her lip and let her eyes dart in between Sharon and Steve, then back to Sharon who got the hint pretty easily.

"I'm gonna go get another drink." she hastily excused herself to leave the couple alone to talk. Once she was gone, Steve's attention returned to Q, who still looked both guilty and nervous. Before Steve could ask why she didn't tell him, she filled in the blanks,

"I got the email the same time Ross came to the compound, and then there was the whole Accords thing, and then Peggy...and...it just wasn't the right time." she grimaced a bit, looking guilty even though she shouldn't, "I'm sorry, Steve, I meant to tell you." he nodded a bit and then reiterated the main point.

"But you got the job." he raised his eyebrows up, hoping the answer was still yes. She nodded in confirmation, which made him grin. His shoulders relaxed and he let out a bit of laugh, "Queenie, that's...amazing. I knew you would." he moved to wrap one arm around her waist so he could pull her into a tight hug, "I'm so happy for you." he congratulated her with words and a quick kiss to the cheek.

"Yeah?" she kept her arms around his neck, afraid to let go because he might take it back,

"A hundred percent." he assured her while stepping back to give her a full kiss, "Are you going to take it?" he asked an important follow up question.

"Do you think I should?" she answered with a question, letting him decide something he had no business in deciding. He shook his head, relaying the message,

"It's up to you. If you want it, take it." she placed her hands on his shoulders, already having so many details they needed to work out.

"But what about us? And the Avengers and all the Accords stuff?" One answer could be used for both of her questions.

"I'm not signing the Accords, Q, I can't." he shook his head a bit, staying firm in his decision, "So maybe I'll take some time off." he raised his eyebrows up with a bit of a face, one that surprised her - enough for her to let out an amused laugh and give him a smile to match,

"When was the last time there  _wasn't_  a uniform hanging in your closet?" she made a good point, but he couldn't help but tease.

"Why? You don't like the outfit?" A smirk came over her face as she moved her hand behind his head to tug at the short hairs on the back of his neck,

"Oh, you know how much I love those outfits. They suit you." she leaned forward a bit more, "Believe me." she murmured with a wry grin. He grinned a bit, moving to give her a quick kiss.

"We'll figure it out." he settled on, knowing right then and there was not the time nor the place to be having such a conversation, "But if you want the job, you should take it." she grinned at him, pleased by his reaction.

"Then I'll take it." she nodded once, firmly, enough to let both of them know she had made her decision and was sticking to it.

"Alright then,  _Agent_." he stressed teasingly, making her laugh a little before moving in to kiss him. He was really proud of her. She wanted this, needed it, in order to begin to feel more like herself again. And after everything that she had gone through, she deserved something to go her way. He was more than happy to follow her to Berlin, if need be.

"Steve," Sam's serious voice got them to pull apart and look over to their friend. His expression matched his tone, "There's something you gotta see." Right before their very eyes, Steve shifted into Captain mode: posture straightening, face setting into a serious expression, and moving away from his girlfriend to follow Sam over to the television screens above the bar.

All the screens had switched from whatever football match had been on to either an international news channel or a national news channel. Not that it mattered; they were saying the same thing: the United Nations complex in Vienna had just been bombed.

* * *

_A/N: Oooooh man! We're getting in it now folks! I hope you enjoyed this chapter even if it just set up a lot of what was coming. So much emotional turmoil tho! So much angst! Ugh! Please let me know your thoughts. I love you all so much for reading!_


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